To Save A Squib
by Ozma
Summary: COMPLETE. (Now with brief epilogue and notes added.) Filch joins forces with Sirius Black and Severus Snape to save a young Squib from the Death Eaters. Sequel to The Way of the Squib.
1. Garden Party

To Save a Squib  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
Chapter 1: Garden Party  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
I ran to the small grove of birch trees, tumbled down the small hill and landed, gasping, in the   
cold water of the stream. The shaggy black animal that ran beside me was as huge as a bear. He was the   
largest one-headed dog I'd ever seen.  
  
He was more than a simple dog, I knew. The wand now clutched in my shaking hands belonged   
to him. He was a wizard. An Animagus.  
  
Unseen by anyone, Severus had given me the wand. My hands had been bound behind my back.   
Snape had slid the wand between the ropes holding my wrists together. None of the other Death Eaters   
had seen what their Alchemist had done.  
  
"Take the dog with you, when you go..." Severus had hissed in my ear.  
  
********  
  
Earlier, Professor Snape had given me a potion. I had lain numb and drugged on the stone floor   
of the ruined tower's dungeon while he'd knelt beside me, taking precisely what he needed. One tooth   
(another molar, from the opposite side of my jaw as the last time.) One nail from my right index finger. A   
hank of my hair. And, finally, he'd cut a long, bloody strip of skin from my right shoulder, carefully   
catching the blood and collecting it in a small, crystal vial.   
  
I'd felt strangely detached from all of this, no pain, no fear. As if these terrible things were   
happening to some other unfortunate Squib. I could even admire Snape's expertise with the knives and   
pliers. He did not waste a single motion, nor did he spill one unnecessary drop of my blood.  
  
Around us in the torchlit dungeon, other Death Eaters had stood. Terrifying in their dark robes   
and masks.  
  
Nearby, a small cauldron had floated in mid-air over a low fire. Beside the cauldron, also   
floating, were a small, silver dipper and a tiny porcelain container, shaped like an inkwell, with a quill   
sticking out of it.  
  
I could tell which of the anonymous masked, robed figures was Lucius Malfoy. He was the one   
holding the scroll.   
  
"Excellent, Severus. Do remember to take proper care with the temperature this time..." Lucius   
Malfoy had drawled slowly.   
  
"We cannot afford any more mistakes this evening. He will be here very soon."  
  
There was fear hidden within the light mockery in Lucius Malfoy's elegant voice. He was trying   
to conceal it from everyone. But, with all my own emotions numbed, nothing distracted me from picking   
up the nuances evident in the people around me.  
  
Malfoy was afraid for his own sake, yes. But, I thought, he seemed to be even more afraid for   
Severus. His stance, as he loomed over the kneeling Potions Master, was protective.  
  
Even detached as I was, I approved.   
  
The Headmaster's subtle work had borne fruit. Dumbledore had reminded Lucius Malfoy that   
Slytherin House was far older than the Death Eaters. Malfoy knew that the responsibility for the future of   
his House and the safety of his son, rested in Snape's hands.  
  
"There will be no mistakes, Lucius." Severus murmured coolly. "Not this time."   
  
Snape's last comment was spoken very softly. So softly that only I could hear him.   
  
"I know precisely what I am doing."  
  
*******  
  
It was spring, and the icy stream was running fast and high. Weakened by pain and blood loss,   
and by a desperate struggle that still continued, I collapsed face down into the water. Snape's potion had   
worn off, precisely when he'd predicted it would.   
  
I'd been able to fight, when he'd needed me to fight. And then, I'd been able to run.  
  
My companion, the black dog, had been injured far worse than I. His fur was matted with blood   
and he was limping on three legs. Yet, he grabbed my shoulder in his powerful jaws and wrestled my head   
up and out of the stream.   
  
Choking and sputtering I clung to him, hiding my face in his shaggy side.  
  
Inside of me a battle raged. Magic roared through me; both my own and that of a far more   
powerful wizard. I held a mighty serpent by the tail while his fangs sought my throat.  
  
Lucius Malfoy.   
  
Severus Snape's plan had been desperate and reckless enough to impress even a Gryffindor.   
Though, of course, Snape had insisted that all the risks were carefully calculated in advance.   
  
Poor Severus. I hoped I hadn't killed him. I hadn't wanted to kill any of them. Leaving Snape   
alive and all the others dead would have looked too suspicious. No one would die tonight, if I could help   
it. Snape had been one of the first I'd attacked and rendered unconscious. I'd wanted him put out of the   
fight as quickly as possible.  
  
I had not known how difficult this much magic would be to control! Behind us, the tower was a   
total ruin. I knew that Malfoy still lived, because he was fighting me for the power I'd stolen from him.   
The fate of the other Death Eaters was uncertain.  
  
Surely, Malfoy would have shielded Severus when the tower fell. Blessed Merlin, I hoped so!  
  
"Apparate...!" I choked to the black dog. "L-leave me...!"  
  
Hands trembling, I slid the wand into his open jaws.  
  
I had no idea who this wizard was. He was another one of Dumbledore's agents. Snape had   
simply referred to him as "that idiot Gryffindor!"  
  
The Animagus had already saved one innocent life tonight, and nearly lost his own. Badly hurt   
as he was, he was clearly a powerful mage. He might still have the strength to escape if he was willing to   
abandon me.  
  
But, the "idiot Gryffindor" did not abandon me.  
  
He stayed still while I clung to him and screamed in agony.  
  
*******  
  
The first time I'd seen this black dog had been a week earlier. He'd been with Harry Potter, at   
Hogwarts, for the garden party.  
  
Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, had wanted to show the Wizarding world that everything   
was "perfectly normal" at the finest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Europe. And so, the Minister   
had strongly suggested to the Headmaster that Dumbledore should open up the Castle and have a party for   
the students and their families.   
  
Albus Dumbledore knew that nothing was "perfectly normal" in a world where Voldemort had   
risen once more. And he knew that opening up the Castle to the students' families (a mixed group that   
included both Death Eaters and Muggles) could be potentially quite dangerous.  
  
But, he'd liked the idea of a party.  
  
"What a splendid idea! We can have it outside!" He'd told the Minister. "The weather is turning   
quite nice."   
  
The Headmaster had neatly sidestepped any arguments about refusing to let so many people into   
the Castle to wander about unsupervised. Minister Fudge had been expecting another debate about He   
Who Must Not Be Named. He was so relieved not to have had one, that he hadn't objected to a garden   
party instead.  
  
On the grounds, in front of Hogwarts Castle, four large pavilions had been erected; one for each   
of the four Houses. Around each of the pavilions, plants and flowers had been artfully arranged, all   
carefully chosen to represent the four Houses' colors.  
  
I remembered actually looking forward to the event. Not because I wished to attend. Quite the   
opposite. I meant to spend as little time as I could at the festivities. But the Castle would be quiet during   
the party. Better yet, the bulk of the cleaning up would not fall to me, though I would help a great deal, of   
course.  
  
For many years I would have been able to get away with hiding in my dungeon office, far from   
any noisy, crowded celebration. But now there were children who insisted that I do otherwise.  
  
"But, it's too much excitement for Mrs. Norris!" I'd told Ginny, stubbornly. "You know that she   
needs a lot of rest and quiet in her delicate condition!"   
  
"Take Mrs. Norris upstairs and let her have a nap on your bed, Mr. Filch. She won't mind if you   
go outside, just for a little bit. Isn't that right, Mrs. Norris? You know that Neville and I won't let   
anything happen to him."  
  
My traitorous cat had purred acquiescence at Ginny.  
  
"I'll be outside, waiting for you," my young, red haired friend had said. Her tone had implied that   
she would come searching for me if I didn't appear outside within a reasonable amount of time.  
  
Ginny may be small and sweet, but she's a force to be reckoned with. So, a short while later, I   
found myself obediently walking out the Castle's front door and down the stone steps to meet her.  
  
Naturally, she did not allow me to hide myself somewhere out of the way. The Castle grounds   
were full of people, mingling everywhere. Ginny caught me by the hand and pulled me into the throng.  
  
I could have pointed to the Headmaster and each of the Professors, with my eyes closed. Each of   
them, aware of the dangers in such a gathering, were surrounded by a corona of magic. They made   
especially sure to watch over the Muggle relations of the students who came from mixed, or Muggle   
families.  
  
Professor Snape had an especially difficult task.  
  
"You make sure that you keep those blasted Death Eaters away from the Muggles!" Alastor "Mad   
Eye" Moody had snarled at his fellow Slytherin.   
  
The old Auror had thought that Dumbledore was completely mad to have allowed the Minister to   
talk him into a party. Snape had voiced a similar opinion when the Headmaster had told the staff about   
the upcoming event. But, rather than openly agree with Mad Eye, the Potions Master had just sneered.  
  
"I do not need you to remind me of my responsibilities, Moody."   
  
Now, dressed in a somber black robe a bit more elegant than his everyday ones, Severus moved   
easily among the assorted Slytherin families; both those with ties to the Death Eaters and those who were   
innocent of such Dark alliances. He alone knew who deserved his special scrutiny.   
  
By the end of the day, I knew that the poor man would have a pounding stress-headache.  
  
Ginny was pulling me towards a knot of mostly Gryffindors. "Don't worry. It will be fine. You   
already know my family..." she was saying. "It's just my Mum and Dad and Percy. Bill and Charlie   
couldn't come today. You've always liked Percy... you told me so yourself."  
  
"Ginny! Stop... they're having a good time. They don't want to see me." I protested.  
  
"Hush! You're not as awful as you want everyone to think... not by half. You're just shy."  
  
My look of outraged indignation completely failed to intimidate her.  
  
"Come along, Mr. Filch. Hermione's parents are there, with my Mum and Dad. And the   
Creeveys. And Mr. Finnegan is here with Mrs. Finnegan, and there are the Thomases too. You've said   
that you should like to meet real Muggles, someday! Here's your chance..."  
  
The faces and the names were mostly all a blur to me, I felt so nervous. The Muggles were   
dressed oddly but they seemed quite kind. They must have thought it especially decent of the Headmaster   
to hire a poor, mute Squib as caretaker since I couldn't manage to do more than nod at them.  
  
Mr. Creevey was a surprise. The mousy-haired Muggle milkman who had sired two small   
wizards was a giant. (Oh, not compared to Hagrid, of course. But he towered over almost everyone else.)   
His dainty little wife was the tiny one. I wondered if Colin and Dennis might someday take after their   
father.  
  
Only Harry Potter's mysterious Muggle relations appeared to be nowhere in evidence. But the   
boy seemed happy enough.  
  
He was with Ron and Hermione. All three of them were alternately playing with a huge, black   
dog, and stuffing the beast with food.  
  
At the time I did not know that anything was unusual about the creature. I just hoped that they   
weren't going to overfeed it until it got sick.  
  
*******  
  
A grumpy old misanthrope like me is simply not used to being around so many people at once.   
Before long I had a headache every bit as bad as the one that Snape was surely getting.  
  
There were too many people about for me to just call a Door and vanish. So, I made my excuses   
to Ginny and headed back towards the Castle.  
  
On the way, I bumped into Neville. Fortunately, Neville did not threaten to drag me off and   
introduce me to his family. (He knows what I think of his great Uncle Algernon, who once dangled my   
poor young friend out of an attic window.)   
  
Neville was carrying an untouched plate of food. He'd clearly intended to eat it himself, but he   
gave it to me, instead.   
  
"Here. You'll feel much better if you eat something. You don't want to upset Mrs. Norris, do   
you? She'll hiss at you if you go back in looking so pale. Wait here, and I'll fetch you something to   
drink."  
  
Neville darted away before I could thank him for the food and ask him if he could find me   
something to drink that was a bit stronger than pumpkin juice.  
  
My young friend bumped into a slender dark skinned girl, her ebony hair done up in many tiny   
and elaborate beaded braids. She was his age, and not dressed as a Muggle. But I didn't recognize her.   
She wasn't a student at Hogwarts.  
  
"Oh! I'm sorry... terribly clumsy of me!" Neville said, blushing as he helped her up.  
  
"That's all right..." the girl said, shyly.  
  
"Callandra, sweetheart! Are you hurt?"   
  
A slim, dark skinned woman in blue robes came hurrying up to the girl, her manner anxious and   
very protective. At first I was puzzled by this. Callandra did not seem frail or sickly.  
  
I recognized her mother. Hyacinth Murray had been the Ravenclaw Seeker during her school   
days. She'd married Reuben Moffitt. The Murrays and the Moffitts were both old wizarding families,   
primarily sorted into Ravenclaw, for many generations. Daniel, their son, was a Ravenclaw in his second   
year.  
  
Callandra should have been at Hogwarts too. Like all the rest of her family. But she wasn't.  
  
The answer to that puzzle should have been obvious to me, of all people! It must have been the   
headache.  
  
And, the fact that I'd never really met another Squib before.  
  
Hyacinth Moffitt was looking Neville over, clearly making sure that his collision with Callandra   
had just been an accident.  
  
Fortunately for him, Neville is the most harmless-looking person imaginable.  
  
Hyacinth turned her sharp gaze on me next.Most of those who have been students here find out   
what I am, eventually. Hyacinth knew that I was a Squib, like her daughter.  
  
Her Seeker's eyes raked me up and down. When our eyes met, hers were full of pain.  
  
"My sweet child is not going to end up anything like *you!*" Hyacinth Moffitt was clearly   
thinking.   
  
She clutched her daughter to her, fiercely as if she'd just seen the girl's death-omen.  
  
"Mum!" Callandra protested.  
  
"Neville... I'll see you later. I'm not hungry." I murmured, flinching as if Hyacinth had struck   
me.  
  
Without waiting for Neville's reply, I'd fled.  
  
*******  
  
If I'd stayed, could I have changed anything? That is one of many things that I don't know.   
Which Death Eater eventually noticed poor Callandra? Was it Lucius Malfoy himself or one of the others?   
Does it matter? One of them did, and she was in danger from that moment forward.  
  
Severus had often worried that Lucius Malfoy might discover another Squib scroll. But, Severus   
did not know that Lucius had already done so. And Severus had his hands full at the moment, worrying   
about protecting the Muggles and the Muggle-borns. He wasn't thinking about Squibs at all.  
  
And so, it began.  
  
END OF CHAPTER ONE  
  
*******  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: Thanks to the nice folks who reviewed the last chapter of "The Way of the Squib!"  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! Some Squibs probably do get abused and abandoned. And there may be   
orphanages meant for Squibs. But, many are surely loved very deeply by their families.   
  
Your image of Dumbledore in his bathing suit was priceless! And PERFECT!  
  
Wow! The Crookshanks plush is labeled "Mrs. Norris??" I was unable to find a Crookshanks for my   
younger son, who had every possible Harry Potter item on his Christmas list this year. I wish I'd found   
one...  
  
Laundry!!! EEK... It's piling up all around me. I'm going to have to do a load or three, just as soon as I   
finish typing.  
  
RADKA: Thank you!! All my cats have always been fixed, so I've never known about cats eating their   
young. Do you mean stillborn kittens? Hopefully not living, healthy kittens...  
  
Triskelion: Thank you!! At the moment, Crookshanks is "Mr. Norris."  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Filch and Ian may meet again someday.  
  
Quoth the Raven: Thank you!! Moody knows about what Filch can do... he noticed because he's worked   
with Squibs who have had the same talent.  
  
Yes, I think of Squibs as the Wizarding world's equivalent of physically disabled people too. My heart   
ached for Filch as soon as I found out what he was in "Chamber of Secrets."   
  
I honestly didn't realize this when I started writing these stories, but a lot of how I see Filch comes from   
my own experiences. My dad was blind. He coped magnificently in a world that sometimes seemed set up   
especially to make life hard for him. And dealing with his blindness gave him talents and strength that   
inspired me.   
  
(Hey, Dad! These stories are dedicated to you, even though I never realized it, till now.)   
  
Thank you... Your insightful comments made me see where a lot of my inspiration comes from. I am   
looking forward very much to reading more of "Giving Notice!"  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! I've been thinking about Harry and the Doors. If he is Gryffindor's Heir (and I   
think he is) then Harry should be able to use Godric's Door. I don't have story plans for this yet, but if   
Filch were to take him through red-and-gold, it would be obvious. There would be none of the usual   
"resistance" that Filch gets when he brings a passenger through. And Harry wouldn't get sick afterwards.   
One trip with Filch would be enough for the Door to "notice" Harry and recognize him as another   
authorized user.  
  
Harry would be able to use Godric's Door as a convenient shortcut through the Castle, but if he tried to   
take Ron and Hermione with him, they would get violently sick. And he would have to hang onto them   
tightly, or he'd lose them and not be able to go back for them easily. The consequences of being "lost"   
inside the Doors are very serious; madness and death. When Harry goes through alone he would   
experience no resistance. Filch would warn Harry not to take passengers, unless it was to save them from   
certain death.  
  
Harry would not be able to "call" Godric's Door without a great deal of practice. Maybe years. Filch can   
do it easily now, but he used the Doors for many years first without being able to summon them. Though   
Godric's Door would probably be fond of Harry and follow him around, hoping to be Useful. (All four   
Doors followed Filch around for years before he even realized what they were doing.)  
  
Dumble-Door!! Oh Lordy!!! Did that make me laugh!!! I am not boo-ing. I am groveling humbly at your   
feet, O Queen of Puns! I am not worthy....  
  
Yes, Dumbledore does have more than enough power to make a Door of his own. He might do it, just so   
he can dive into deep bathtubs. He will, of course, clean up all the water on the floor when he's done.  
  
Poor Harry has to deal with lots of rumors and gossip. You're right... people will talk, even if they don't   
know what they're talking about. (The Wizarding world is no better than the Muggle one in that respect.   
Look at all the crap poor Hermione had to deal with after Rita Skeeter wrote that nasty article about her.)   
  
I don't have any plans yet, for Filch to find out the awful details of Harry's life with the Dursleys. But   
anything is possible.  
  
(Ozmaniacs? )  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!! I loved your idea of what Hermione does to catch her new subjects!  
  
UnrepentantReader: Thank you!!  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! Yes, house-elves like kittens. They'll be delighted to help take care of the little fluff   
balls.  
  
I think of Squib-ness as being the result of a birth defect. Filch's ability to "sense" magic is similar to a   
blind person's sensitive ears, nose and fingers.  
  
Moody may ask for Filch's help someday. It's another half-formed idea in the back of my head.  
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Thank you!! Yes, Harry, as Gryffindor's Heir, would be able to use red-and-gold as   
a convenient shortcut through the Castle. Though he wouldn't be able to Call the Door, without a lot of   
practice and he should consider the consequences carefully before taking passengers with him.  
  
Gramaryre: Thank you!!  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Here's the start of the story with Severus and Sirius...  
  
Rabbit: Thank you!! Filch does know how to swim now. But the thought of swimming in the lake scares   
him.  
  
Right now, Sirius and Severus are reluctant allies, working towards the same goal. Poor Filch doesn't   
know who Sirius is, just yet. He's in for a shock. 


	2. Calculated Risks

To Save A Squib  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
Chapter 2: Calculated Risks  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
Trembling with shock in the cold water of the stream, I clung to the giant black dog. He was   
tugging at me, making soft whimpering sounds that were very much at odds with his fierce appearance.   
Badly injured though he was, the Animagus was strong enough to drag me out of the water. He pulled me   
over to the bank, though neither of us had the strength to climb it.  
  
The dog-wizard stayed at my side, preventing me from slipping back into the water. His wand   
was clutched in his teeth. I was in too much pain to wonder why the Animagus seemed reluctant to   
resume his human form.  
  
Lucius Malfoy was tearing me up inside, trying to get his magic back. He was far stronger than I   
was. I did not know how much longer I could keep this up. Professor Snape had told me that I had to keep   
fighting Malfoy, for as long as I possibly could.  
  
"He needs to be shown that the Squib scrolls are double-edged swords, Filch." Severus had said,   
grimly. "You'll have to teach him a lesson he won't soon forget."  
  
Poor Severus. I did not know if he was even still alive. His body, along with those of the other   
Death Eaters, might be lying crushed under the heavy stones of the ruined tower. The dog and I had   
barely made it out before the tower's collapse. If Snape lived, he would owe his life to Malfoy.  
  
The grey-eyed Death Eater had been the only wizard left standing when the tower fell. Only he   
could have shielded his fellow Death Eaters. Any of his companions who lived would owe Malfoy a   
Wizard's Debt.  
  
"`Carefully calculated risks,' my....!" I thought, as a new wave of pain made me scream.  
  
*******  
  
Earlier this evening, Severus had come to my office. He needed my help, he said.   
  
The Headmaster had been called away on a related matter, but Severus had followed protocol and   
informed Minerva of his intentions before coming down here to me.  
  
I knew that, in my absence, Minerva would make sure that Mrs. Norris was looked after properly,   
until I returned.  
  
Without my help, Snape said, two lives might be lost tonight, and more deaths would be sure to   
follow. Lucius Malfoy had found another Squib scroll.  
  
Even worse, he'd kidnapped a young Squib, a fifteen year old girl, to allow him to access the   
spells.  
  
I'd known her name even before Snape had told me; Callandra Moffitt.  
  
Feeling sickened, I buried my face in my hands.  
  
"Lucius, or one of the others, must have noticed the girl at that cursed party!" Severus snarled.  
  
I had been too upset at the time to note the guilt hidden beneath the anger in Snape's voice.   
  
Watching the Death Eaters had been his particular task. Severus been worried about keeping   
them away from Muggles. Their passing interest in a girl from an old, pure blooded wizarding family had   
not concerned him. It wasn't as if Callandra had "I am a Squib" floating around her head in charmed,   
sparkling letters. Preoccupied with other matters, it had not occurred to Severus to wonder why Callandra   
had never attended Hogwarts.  
  
Fortunately for Callandra, one of Dumbledore's other hidden agents, present at the party, had   
noticed the Death Eaters noticing her. Informing the Headmaster, this wizard had been instructed to   
watch over her.  
  
Severus admitted to me, rather grudgingly, that this agent had foiled two kidnapping attempts   
earlier in the week before being unable to stop the third. Then the Death Eaters had captured both   
Callandra and her protector.  
  
"At least Lucius does not appear to have the child, at the moment. I suspect that the Gryffindor   
idiot must have Transfigured her into something else, to keep her safe. But she is still in terrible danger. If   
that careless lout should die, then we shall have a very difficult time finding the girl. No one else knows   
where she is, or even what she's been Transfigured into! The fool clearly did not understand that his   
instructions were to observe, without interfering!"  
  
"Well, of course he had to interfere!" I cried, lifting my head to glare at Snape. "Was he expected   
to merely "observe" while those Dark wizards cut poor Callandra to pieces?"  
  
Snape gave me one of his most caustic glares.   
  
"He was expected not to make a bad situation even worse!" Severus snapped.  
  
I wanted to argue with him further, but it would have served no purpose. Anyhow, I was too   
worried.  
  
I'd known of Callandra Moffitt's existence for only a week. She was the first other Squib that I'd   
been aware of meeting, however briefly.   
  
Callandra was important to me, for her own sake.   
  
Doubly important, because someone dear to me cared for her very much.   
  
The Death Eaters were not going to have her, or the wizard who'd tried to save her. Not if I could   
help it!  
  
"Tell me what you need me to do, Professor," I said.   
  
*******  
  
On the day after the garden party, I had been carrying a ladder, which Professor Sprout had   
borrowed from me, back inside through the entrance hall.   
  
Was it really only six days ago? It seemed as if an eternity had passed between that happy time,   
and now.  
  
I had watched Neville coming down the stairs with his fellow Gryffindors, Parvati Patil and   
Lavender Brown.  
  
"Well, it doesn't really have to rhyme, does it?" Parvati was saying to Neville. "Some of the most   
romantic poetry doesn't rhyme at all..."  
  
"It's hard for us to judge how good your poem is, if you won't even let us see it," Lavender said,   
gently teasing him.  
  
Parvati's dark eyes sparkled. "It's easy to guess who you've written it for, though. You hardly   
left her for a moment yesterday, all afternoon!"  
  
Poor Neville blushed like a ripe tomato. Then he caught sight of me.  
  
"Mr. Filch!" the boy called, sounding relieved. "Wait! Let me help you with that ladder."  
  
I cringed.   
  
Neville is my friend. He's saved my life and I would trust him to do so again.   
  
But, should I allow him to help me carry a ladder down the dungeon stairs...?   
  
That's just asking for trouble. Even those of us who are very fond of the boy are forced to   
acknowledge that he can be remarkably clumsy.  
  
But Neville looked at me, a pleading expression on his round, good-natured face.  
  
"Thank you, Neville," I said, bravely. "I could use a hand."  
  
Miraculously, we made it all the way down the dungeon stairs, without any mishaps.   
  
After we'd carried the ladder to my main storeroom in the dungeons, I breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"Mr. Filch? Do you know anything about poetry?" Neville asked me. His voice was soft and shy.  
  
I shook my head. "Not a thing. Writing poems for Callandra, are you?" I asked him gruffly.  
  
The fact that I was clearly a bit embarrassed by the subject myself, appeared to bolster Neville's   
confidence.  
  
"Not `poems.' Just the one," he said. "And it doesn't rhyme or anything."   
  
He blushed again. "Callandra is the most amazing girl... I could never write anything for her that   
would be half as perfect as she is."  
  
If possible, Neville became even redder. "She sent me an owl, you know. At breakfast this   
morning. She wrote me a letter! It was more of a note really. But she said that she had a wonderful time.   
At Hogwarts. With me!"  
  
Fifteen. I'd been there, a very long time ago.   
  
Not long enough ago for me to have forgotten what it had felt like, unfortunately.   
  
When I was fifteen, I was already well accustomed to hiding myself away. Too ashamed to speak   
to the people I already knew. And too frightened of meeting new people; always dreading the moment   
when they would figure out that I couldn't do any magic. I'd felt worthless. An outcast. Certain that no   
young witch would ever want anything to do with me.  
  
Young Callandra was certainly far braver than I had been at her age. What courage it must have   
taken, for her to send an owl to Neville. I never would have taken such a risk.  
  
"Callandra asked me to tell you something, Mr. Filch," Neville said, a bit hesitantly. "She says   
that you mustn't mind her Mum. Callandra says that Mrs. Moffitt is a nice lady, really. She's just a bit...   
er... you know."  
  
I did know. The expression of pain on Hyacinth Moffitt's face had been so familiar. I'd seen a   
similar look on my own mother's face, very often.  
  
The horror on Hyacinth's face, when she'd seen me, had cut me right to the bone. But I had   
understood it.  
  
"No gloomy dungeon offices for my baby!" The former Ravenclaw Seeker had clearly been   
thinking. "No mops, no brooms! No scrubbing acres of stone floors on her hands and knees. She's *not*   
like you! She won't be bitter and old before her time... not my Callandra!"  
  
I knew that if Hyacinth could somehow take all the magic she possessed and give every bit of it to   
Callandra, then she would. Callandra's mother would gladly spend all the rest of her days as a Squib. It   
would be less painful for her than watching her child struggle through the world without magic.  
  
My own parents had wanted the best for me too.   
  
For them, that had meant a secure position for me and the promise of a roof always over my   
head. My father, in particular, had made sure that I knew how to work very hard. I didn't blame them for   
any of the choices they had made for me.  
  
"Please, Neville, tell Callandra that I know Mrs. Moffitt didn't mean to...." My voice trailed off,   
uncertainly, and I sighed.   
  
"Just tell her that I understand. It's all right."  
  
"I will."  
  
Neville took a deep breath before he continued.   
  
"Callandra knows that you're one too. A Squib, I mean. I told her." He looked at me,   
apologetically. "I hope you don't mind. She told me that she's never met another one before. I told her   
that *I'm* practically a Squib, and she just laughed. Then she smiled at me, and said, "No, you're not!"  
  
Neville grinned, shyly. "Callandra has the most wonderful laugh! Her Mum teaches her at home,   
so she doesn't get the chance to meet very many people. She loves to read, and she loves to paint, though   
she doesn't think she's good at it. I'm sure she's better than she thinks she is. She's really clever and   
she's got a wonderful memory. I introduced her to just about everyone in Gryffindor yesterday, and she   
remembered who was who!"  
  
I could not help smiling. Callandra hadn't needed any magic to enchant Neville. The boy was   
clearly smitten.  
  
  
I was pleased for them and frightened for them at the same time.   
  
Six days ago, the prospect of Neville's first love had been the scariest thing I could imagine.  
  
*******  
  
Severus told me what he needed me to do.  
  
I was aghast.  
  
"You expect ME to be able to defeat Lucius Malfoy? By using his own powers against him?"  
  
"It is not as far-fetched as it sounds, Filch. Malfoy does not know that the link, between the Squib   
and the wizard who activates the scroll, could permit the transfer of power to flow either way."  
  
"Y-you mean when you used that scroll on me I could have turned the tables on you? Stolen   
*your* magic?" I squeaked.  
  
"Yes. At the very start of the spell, there was a brief moment when you could have done exactly   
that. For that one moment it does not matter which wizard is stronger than the other. It only matters   
which one of them can react more quickly."  
  
The stunned expression on my face seemed to amuse him.  
  
"You must seize that chance when Malfoy activates the scroll and awakens your magic. Malfoy   
understands the principles behind the Squib scrolls but he has not experienced the spell's workings as you   
and I have. You will be able to take him unawares."  
  
I was still staring at him in shock.  
  
"It's very simple, Filch!" Severus sneered, exasperated. "Albus keeps me up to date on your   
progress with Moody. I know that you can feel the ebb and flow of magic, better even than any normal   
wizard. Now that you know what to look for, just recognize the right moment and strike! Hard and fast,   
without mercy!"  
  
Then, Professor Snape sighed. "Naturally, Malfoy wishes the honor of demonstrating the scroll   
for the Dark Lord. He feels it's his right, as Lucius is the one who keeps finding the bloody things! It   
would be much easier if Lucius would allow *me* to work the spell. Then I could guide you through the   
process, like Granger spoon-feeding Longbottom all the way through Potions class!"  
  
I glared at Snape, feeling a wave of anger on Neville's behalf. At least the anger distracted me   
from my shock and trepidation.  
  
Severus watched me, speculatively. I suddenly realized that his dig at Neville had been intended   
to provoke exactly that sort of reaction from me, and for just that purpose.  
  
"Wandless magic will drain you very quickly," Snape continued, as I got myself under control.  
  
"I remember," I said, softly.  
  
"There may be a way for me to get a wand for you to use. It will increase your chance of success.   
That idiot Gryffindor has a wand. The two of you do not have much in common, and I do not know how   
much luck you will have with it. But, still, it will be better than nothing. And I doubt he will be in any   
position to object to your borrowing it."   
  
"How do you know he's even still alive?" I asked, worried.   
  
No matter what Severus thought of this Gryffindor, Callandra owed him her life, and I was   
inclined to think well of him. I very much wanted to see him safe, along with Callandra.  
  
"They need him alive, Filch. Dead, he would not be able to tell them where he's hidden the child,   
if I should fail in my mission to capture you."  
  
My concern for the Gryffindor wizard appeared to amuse Severus for some reason.   
  
"Even when I bring you to them, they will still have a use for him," Severus told me.   
  
"Working the Dark magic of the Squib scroll requires a certain amount of blood and pain. Squibs   
are rare and difficult to come by. Lucius understands now that he must not risk damaging you any more   
than necessary. Needless to say, Lucius and his cronies have not been ...gentle with our Gryffindor   
colleague. They were not pleased that he was able to take the girl from under their very noses, and hide   
her."  
  
I shuddered. Severus had already told me that the wizard who had protected Callandra had been   
tortured, even while Malfoy was ordering Severus to go to Hogwarts and fetch me for the Death Eaters to   
use, in Callandra's place.  
  
"Are you ready, Filch? Have you everything that you need?"  
  
I gave my pockets a quick pat.   
  
"Yes. I'm ready."  
  
Severus withdrew a small glass bottle from his pocket and handed it to me.  
  
"I apologize for the taste, Filch. Drink it all, quickly. It will make what I must do to you...   
bearable. Do not worry. The effects will wear off, in time. You will be able to do what you must. I have   
done my best to calculate everything as well as possible."  
  
The potion in the bottle was, without a doubt, the most foul thing I have ever tasted. Drinking it   
quickly was the only way that I could get it all down.  
  
Severus pulled a long, slender knife out of his sleeve.  
  
I stared at it, shivering.  
  
"P-Professor? What are you...?"  
  
He glowered at me in exasperation. "This is just a portkey, Filch!"   
  
Wrapping his hand around the knife, he turned the hilt towards me.  
  
Obediently, I placed my hand on the hilt.  
  
A moment later, we were gone.  
  
END OF CHAPTER TWO  
  
*******  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
RaspberryPele: Thank you!! I've been trying hard to keep Filch in character. Most of his changes have   
been internal.  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! The song "Garden Party" was running through my head when I was typing that   
chapter...  
  
Dumbledore's attempts to generate goodwill among wizards haven't been entirely unsuccessful. It's just   
unfortunate that the negative results become apparent long before the positive ones do. Most of the   
attendees at the garden party had a really nice time. Neville and Callandra certainly did.  
  
I love "Keeping in Touch!"  
  
Pendragon: Thank you!!  
  
Larania: Thank you!!  
  
Mouse: Thank you!! Filch still doesn't know who Sirius is. Snape has not told him, it would distract Filch   
too much from the task at hand.   
  
The image of Albus in swim trunks is so delightful! I'm trying to think of a way to use it in a story....  
  
Darkrose: Thank you!! Both Callandra and her mother, Hyacinth, quickly developed minds of their own   
and practically wrote themselves.  
  
Corrissa: Thank you!! Is Draco the Heir to Slytherin? Interesting question. He did not seem to think that   
he was, back in "Chamber of Secrets," but he may have the potential to become the Heir, even if he isn't a   
Parselmouth. My feelings are that Draco *might* be the Heir of Slytherin... if he is wise enough to make   
the right decision concerning the Dark Mark. If he remains his own wizard, and not Voldemort's,   
anything is possible.  
  
Rabbit: Thank you!! Here's some more information on how Argus willingly walked into this fix.  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!!  
  
Besnaped: Thank you!! I love Raven Dancer's stories too!! If I decide to do anything with this idea I will   
let you know, although my head is really very full of other plots at the moment. (I've always thought of   
Filch as being protective of Snape, ever since the caretaker patched up the Potions Master in the first book   
when Fluffy had used poor Severus as a chew-toy.)  
  
Millefiori: Thank you!! I suspect that sly, sneaky Severus is also really looking forward to Filch   
discovering the true identity of "The Gryffindor Idiot" that he's so worried about. Snape is too much a   
professional to spill the beans when the knowledge would distract Filch from the task at hand.  
  
On the other hand, poor Sirius is not particularly looking forward to Filch finding out who he is. At the   
moment, he's just hoping that all of them will survive to save Callandra.  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! It's Lucius who keeps finding the scrolls for Voldemort. He's got a talent for   
unearthing Dark artifacts.  
  
The people that Ginny introduced Filch to at the party thought that the caretaker was shy. He hardly said a   
word, and he hid behind Ginny as much as he could. (He would have preferred to appear forbidding, but   
it's hard to give that impression when you're being tugged around by a fourteen year old energetic red-  
head.)  
  
I am not sure if Filch was at Hogwarts as apprentice-caretaker when Molly and Arthur Weasley were   
students there, but I think he probably was. Molly Weasley already knows that her daughter's assessment   
of Filch is correct; a lot of his gruff, forbidding manner stems from shyness.   
  
Filch probably avoided the students as much as possible when he was Pringle's apprentice, but it's easy to   
imagine kind-hearted Molly being aware of him.  
  
Your image of Neville playing house-elf for Filch is delightful!  
  
Filch understands Hyacinth Moffitt's feelings, even though her reaction to him was painful. His parents   
had both known a Squib who was a beggar and who had died homeless, before Argus was born. Filch   
knows the "My Child Isn't Going To End Up Like That" look very well.  
  
My family thinks that I write non-stop too. I should probably get more sleep, but writing is much more fun   
than sleeping. I guess I won't be able to keep this up indefinitely. (If I should ever slow down a bit, it will   
because I've rediscovered my need to snooze.)  
  
Lyansidde: Thank you!! Snape was my original first-favorite character too. I didn't adore Filch until the   
second book, though his looking after the injured Severus in the first book was always a strong point in   
the caretaker's favor. Now, Filch is my favorite. He's as fascinating, but less intimidating than Snape, far   
more sheltered and "innocent" for lack of a better word, than the Potions Master. (Naturally Filch would   
have a hissy-fit if anyone described him in those terms, but I believe that Snape thinks of Filch as a   
sheltered innocent, compared to him.)  
  
Filch was able to steal Lucius Malfoy's power because Malfoy was the one using the scroll. Filch may not   
have known that this was possible on his own, but Snape told him. (The Dark wizard who created the   
scrolls was aware of the potential danger, but he never imagined that anyone powerful enough to work the   
spells would actually TELL the Squib that the magic could flow either way.) Only one wizard could use   
the scroll at a time, so it was only Malfoy's powers that Filch "filched." (Sorry, couldn't resist.)  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! The actual battle between Filch and the Death Eaters is coming up next   
chapter. If Salazar and Godric both have an Heir, then I'm sure that Rowena and Helga have Heirs too.   
(Why should the wizards have all the fun?) The idea of Uric being Helga's Heir delights me!   
  
Melodie: Thank you for your thank you!!  
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Thank you!! & Thank you!! Shakespeare... cool! Hopefully I've filled in some of   
the plot gaps now...  
  
UnrepententReader: Thank you!! I think I filled in some plot gaps, but I had to leave a few open for next   
chapter. 


	3. Double Edged Swords

To Save A Squib  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
Chapter 3: Double Edged Swords  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
Snape's numbing potion was wearing off.   
  
The stone floor of Lucius Malfoy's tower-dungeon was unforgivingly   
hard under my aching body. My jaw throbbed with pain from my missing   
tooth, and the taste of blood in my mouth made me ill. The Potions   
Master had cut a long strip of skin from my right shoulder and removed   
the nail from my right index finger. Both my hand and my shoulder were   
on fire with agony.  
  
When Severus turned me over on my back, concealing the wand he'd   
just slid between my bound hands, I moaned.  
  
Snape's silky voice was very quiet, so soft that none of the other   
Death Eaters heard him.  
  
"It won't be much longer now, Filch. Ten minutes at most. Take the   
dog with you, when you go."  
  
He rose from my side and went to join the others; a gathering of   
six wizards, besides himself. I knew Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, senior.   
The other three were unknown to me, anonymous behind their frightening   
masks.   
  
They were waiting for him, standing around the small, floating   
cauldron. That side of the room was better lit, both by torches and by   
the Death Eaters' wands. The area where I lay was mostly full of   
shadows.  
  
"Dog?" I thought.   
  
I had known that I was not the Death Eaters' only prisoner, but a   
dog...?  
  
Turning my head slowly, I could see the beast lying in the shadows   
against the wall. A massive creature, blacker than the shadows   
themselves. The animal lay unmoving, except for the barely perceptible   
rise and fall of his ribs as he breathed. His shaggy fur was matted with   
blood. Mostly because of his size, I recognized him as the black dog   
that Potter and his friends had been feeding at the garden party a week   
ago.  
  
At least he was breathing.   
  
A bit slow on the uptake, I realized that this dog must be the   
Gryffindor who had saved Callandra Moffit from suffering the pain I had   
just endured.  
  
Snape had not mentioned until now that the Gryffindor wizard was   
an Animagus. Animagi have to be particularly skilled at Transfiguration.   
It made sense that the Gryffindor would have Transfigured Callandra into   
something else to protect her from the Death Eaters.   
  
But only he knew what form he'd given her or where she was hidden.   
He had to leave this tower alive for Callandra's sake, as well as his   
own.  
  
I had to save us both, so he could complete his rescue of   
Calllandra.  
  
Callandra is a Squib, like me. But the resemblence between us ends   
there. She's only fifteen, brave and hopeful, and still mostly   
unbattered by the world. The thought of anyone mutilating that child to   
work Dark magic was sickening.  
  
"Better me than her..." I thought, and drew strength from that.   
The pain was bearable. I must do what I had to do.  
  
Wait for the right moment, and then steal Lucius Malfoy's magic.  
  
Such a simple thing, I thought wryly.  
  
Severus had orchestrated this reckless plan. He'd insisted that   
all the risks had been carefully calculated in advance, and he'd judged   
them to be acceptable ones.   
  
Well, Snape was the experienced spy here. I was just the Castle   
caretaker, wasn't I? I had to trust his judgement.  
  
(I tried not to think about the fact that Snape had once   
considered feeding himself to a Cerebus to be an "acceptable risk.")  
  
"Ten minutes" he'd said. I suppose that his calculations were   
correct, but it still felt like an eternity before the changes that I'd   
been expecting began to happen.  
  
Every nerve in my body began to tingle. I could feel magic, my   
magic, whispering in my ears, gliding up and down my spine, rushing   
through my veins along with my blood. A part of me that usually remains   
crippled and silent, awakened and began to sing.  
  
Someone else was tapping into my magic. It seemed to me that I   
could almost look out through his eyes.  
  
Lucius Malfoy was across the room from me, the torchlight gleaming   
on his pale hair. The Squib scroll floated in mid-air before him. He   
held the quill and wrote words of power in blood red letters, using ink   
that had been made, in part,from my flesh, hair, nails, blood and bone.  
  
Malfoy wrote in a language that was strange to me. But I knew when   
he'd finished. The magic inside me, no longer trapped, sang joyously as   
he reached for it. The link between Lucius Malfoy and myself, formed by   
the scroll, became secure on both sides.  
  
Severus had been right. I knew my moment.  
  
Malfoy was quick, but I was even quicker.  
  
His magic began to flow into me! My small song had seemed to   
belong to a single instrument. Now it swelled to become an entire   
orchestra!  
  
Lucius Malfoy felt the spell begin to slip from his control. He   
pulled, hard.  
  
I pulled back, harder.   
  
His power was roaring through me now, an embarrassment of riches.   
He had so much magic in him... surely it wasn't fair for one wizard to   
have so much magic to call his own!  
  
The magic, both mine and his, rippled through my hair, sparked   
from my eyes, danced along my skin. It filled my belly and went straight   
to my head faster than any drink Hagrid had ever given me.  
  
"Fast, hard, without mercy!" Those had been Severus's   
instructions, hadn't they?  
  
My fingers wrapped around the wand hidden behind my back and I   
felt the mighty surge of power singing through the wand's core.  
  
"Recingo!" I shouted, drunk with power. The spell freed my hands.  
  
Oh! Magic was *so* much easier with a wand!  
  
It's amazing how many spells one can pick up while mopping floors   
and cleaning toilets at the finest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in   
Europe. Without magic the spells had just been empty words in my mouth.   
But now I had the power to back them up.  
  
Pain and fear forgotten, I was on my feet, the borrowed wand held   
out before me.  
  
Across the room I could hear the Death Eaters shouting as the   
other Dark wizards realized that something had gone terribly wrong.  
  
Over the shouting I could hear somebody laughing like a madman.  
  
(It took a moment for me to recognize the wild laughter as my   
own.)  
  
"Pendeo!" I cried, aiming the wand at the two biggest, strongest   
Death Eaters. They were masked, but I knew that they had to be Crabbe   
and Goyle, senior.  
  
That spell is one of Mad Eye Moody's favorites. Less sensitive   
than "Windgardium Leviosa" which Professor Flitwick favors. Meant for   
rough work.  
  
This was rough work.  
  
The two huge men were yanked up to float helplessly in midair.  
  
"Ferio! Pulso!" I bellowed, attacking Malfoy's henchmen.  
  
Both burly, trollish wizards were suddenly reeling under a hail of   
powerful blows, jerking about like tormented stringless puppets.  
  
Malfoy recovered from his shock. He tried to attack me.  
  
"Cesso!" He roared.   
  
I recognized this spell as a slightly different version of "Finite   
Incantem."  
  
Unfortunately for Malfoy, I was drawing so much of his power that   
he couldn't make the spell work.  
  
"GET HIM!" Malfoy snarled at Severus and the three remaining Death   
Eaters.  
  
"Expelliarmus!!" I cried, offering a silent apology to Severus, as   
I aimed for him first.   
  
That particular disarming spell seems to be a great favorite with   
the students at Hogwarts.  
  
Rumor has it that Severus himself is the one who taught it to most   
of the school, at the first and only meeting of a dueling club started   
by Professor Lockhart a few years back.  
  
(Hmm. I wonder how many times poor Severus has regretted teaching   
that lesson?)  
  
Severus hit the stone wall with a sickening thud. He fell to the   
floor and lay still, joining Crabbe and Goyle, who were also now   
unconscious on the floor, and out of the fight.  
  
I felt a blast of power aimed at me, a concerted effort from the   
other three wizards.  
  
"Clipeus!" I cried. It's a shielding charm, one that Professor   
Flitwick teaches his sixth years.  
  
The charm turned out to be even more useful than I expected! It   
"shielded" me by deflecting the attack over to the source of my power...   
Malfoy himself!  
  
Lucius roared with pain, as the three-fold assault knocked him to   
the floor.  
  
"FOOLS!" he bellowed.  
  
"Stupefy!" I cried, three times rapidly, while the other three   
wizards were busy stopping their misdirected attack.  
  
Score Six for me!  
  
Now, it was down to just Malfoy.  
  
We faced each other, both breathing hard.  
  
Inexperienced as I am, I had not been pacing myself. I was   
beginning to tire.  
  
Lucius Malfoy smiled.   
  
And he began to fight me in earnest.  
  
He had been taking my measure and planning while I'd faced the   
others. And, unlike them, he could attack me from within.  
  
He spoke no spells. His attack came through the link between us. I   
felt my heart begin to race. It was suddenly hard to breathe. Blood   
began to flow from my shoulder, my hand and my mouth.  
  
I tried to scream, and found myself choking on my own blood.  
  
"Fool..." Malfoy said, coldly. "How long did you really expect to   
keep what you've stolen? How long did you think you could continue to   
fight me?"  
  
Pain! Unbearable pain. Running up my left arm. My head struck   
something hard. I realized that it was the stone floor. I'd fallen.  
  
No...!   
  
Callandra. The Gryffindor wizard. I had to save them.  
  
Had to...  
  
But all I could do was lie there, helpless. Coughing blood.  
  
My vision was greying out when the terrible pressure inside me   
finally eased.  
  
"That's enough, for now. You've learned your lesson. And I do need   
you alive," Malfoy said, almost lazily.  
  
He knelt beside me, reaching for the wand that I still clutched in   
my right hand.  
  
"How did you get this...?" Malfoy murmured, curiously.  
  
My fingers tightened convulsively around the Gryffindor's wand as   
Malfoy reached for it.  
  
He clearly thought I was beaten. The link between us was still   
open, though.  
  
Desperately, I pulled at his magic again and shouted the most   
powerful spell I had ever heard any wizard use.  
  
Albus Dumbledore had cried out this thunderclap word, in a   
language I did not know. He'd disarmed both Severus Snape and Lucius   
Malfoy with it, stopping their attacks against each other as if they had   
been nothing more than a pair of squabbling first year students.  
  
Malfoy was a powerful mage. Was his magic sufficient enough to   
work that spell?   
  
Apparently, the answer was `yes.' Just barely, though.  
  
I thought the spell's power would shatter me from within. The wand   
glowed in my hand like a beacon.  
  
The thunderclap word reverberated through the already half-ruined   
tower. Magic flowed out in a mighty wave, shaking the stones until they   
began to fall on us, like a deadly rain from above.  
  
And then, the tower fell.  
  
*******  
  
"Mobilicorpus!" had been the spell I'd used to carry the Animagus   
with me, as I fled the collapsing tower.  
  
I still don't know how the two of us made it out, mostly intact.  
  
There was a resounding crash of stones and dust that seemed to   
last forever.  
  
Malfoy remained inside, apparently trapped. But he still lived,   
and he still fought me for his power.  
  
The next thing I knew, after the tower fell, I was lying on the   
ground outside the pile of debris and rubble.  
  
The black dog was nudging me, and whimpering.  
  
For a moment or two I could only lie there, trembling. Severus had   
brought me to the tower in the early part of the evening. From the look   
of the sky, it was now shortly before sunrise. It had been a very long   
night.  
  
And it was not over yet. We still had to rescue Callandra and get   
ourselves out of here.  
  
We made it as far as the stream.  
  
*******  
  
Abruptly, my pain gave way to a terrible, aching emptiness.  
  
This too, was a familiar feeling.  
  
"You have to show him that the Squib scrolls are double-edged   
swords," Snape had said.   
  
"You must hold on. Keep fighting him, until he's forced to destroy   
the cursed thing in order to sever the link between you."  
  
Malfoy must have done it.   
  
He'd destroyed the scroll.  
  
"Mission accomplished..." I whispered to my companion. I was   
barely conscious.  
  
Abruptly, the dog was no longer beside me.  
  
"Mobilicorpus..." a hoarse voice said.   
  
The injured Animagus used the spell to support my weight, but he   
put one arm gently under my shoulders and the other under my knees,   
carrying me as he staggered up the bank of the stream.  
  
He was limping badly. And his breathing was ragged, as if   
something in him had broken. I did not know how he had the strength to   
stay on his feet, let alone look after me.  
  
I tried to get a good look at him, but I was so weak that I could   
barely focus. I got only a vague impression of a pale, thin, badly   
bruised face and long, tangled black hair. His battered face was   
unrecognizable.  
  
"Callandra...?" I whispered, anxiously. Then, I added   
"...Severus...?"  
  
"Callandra will be fine. I'll fetch her. But there's nothing I can   
do for Snape at the moment..." The Animagus said, gruffly.   
  
Something about the angry way he spoke the Potions Master's name   
teased at my memory.  
  
His feelings about Snape aside, the Gryffindor Wizard was gentle   
when he put me down. The roar of power inside me was gone. Empty of   
magic, I could only feel the magic of others once more.  
  
The Animagus was a powerful wizard. His magic crackled around me   
as he said,  
  
"Accio Callandra!"  
  
A few moments later, he was holding a small, ordinary stone in his   
hand.  
  
"It was simple, really..." he murmured. "I hid her in plain sight.   
One more stone among the many stones that had already fallen from the   
crumbling walls. She was safe, impossible for them to hurt. Even when   
the tower fell, she was unharmed. One stone among many."  
  
The Animagus sighed. "I'll have to leave her like this, for just a   
little longer while I Apparate. And I'll have to Transfigure you, as   
well."  
  
Something in his tone nagged at me. He was a clever boy, this one.   
Tricky.  
  
I felt that I should know him.  
  
His name seemed to be hovering just out of reach.  
  
There was a sudden movement behind us, and a blast of incredibly   
strong power. A wave of Darkness, icy and foul.   
  
Someone had just Apparated into the clearing.  
  
I heard a high, cold voice. And my thoughts scattered in terror.  
  
"Well. What have we here? It seems that my Death Eaters have been   
somewhat...careless with their toys."  
  
There could be no mistake about this wizard's identity.  
  
It was He Who Must Not Be Named.  
  
The Dark Lord.  
  
END OF CHAPTER THREE  
  
*******  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!! Aw, I think Albus would look cute in one of those   
turn-of-the century long, bathing costumes.  
  
Excellent point that Albus may already have a Door of his own. He may be   
speaking about the art of Bathtub Cannonball-diving from personal   
experience!   
  
I love the image of Lucius Malfoy wandering around his dungeons with a   
wishing rod!  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! The double-edged sword aspect of the Squib-scrolls   
would be apparent to any Dark wizard who used one. But the scrolls are   
made so that the Squib would miss the one moment where he could turn the   
tables. The wizard responsible for creating the scrolls never   
anticipated an alliance between a reformed Dark Wizard and a Squib,   
using a Squib-scroll to set up an ambush.  
  
Yes! Destroying the scroll is exactly what Snape and Filch were trying   
to make Lucius do. No scroll, no need for a Squib. Callandra did not see   
the Death Eaters' faces, so she would be safe from further attacks.   
Actually, Snape was hoping to put Lucius completely "off" pursuing the   
secrets of the Squib-scrolls, but it remains to be seen if he succeeded   
there.  
  
Bratkatze: Thank you!! For all the nice comments on the other stories   
too! You've really made my day!!  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Filch knows about Ginny's crush on Harry, though   
neither of them have talked about it together. Both of them are too shy.   
Filch remembers that Ginny was the one who was taken into the Chamber   
and saved by Harry. (Ginny's regrets over what happened during the Year   
of the Chamber are what led her to befriend Mrs. Norris.)  
  
In "Goblet of Fire" Molly Weasley tells Harry and Bill Weasley that   
Apollyon Pringle was the caretaker when she and Arthur were students.   
Molly and Arthur went out for a walk at night together and Pringle   
caught Arthur.  
  
"Your father still has the marks..." Molly says to Bill.  
  
This scene is what gave me the idea for the cat o' nine tails that Filch   
has in his desk. The whip used to belonged to Pringle, who sounds like   
he was meaner than Filch.  
  
I also suspect that Dumbledore may not have been the Headmaster when   
Molly and Arther were students. This is because Lupin told Harry, Ron   
and Hermione that he hadn't expected to be able to come to school. "And   
then, Dumbledore became Headmaster," he said.  
  
Whoever was Headmaster before Dumbledore apparently allowed Pringle to   
use "the old punishments" on the students. Pringle must have been   
permitted to chain kids up in the dungeons back in Molly and Arthur's   
time, and use punishments that would leave marks.  
  
I agree that Hagrid and Filch are contemporaries, though I see Filch as   
being a bit older than Hagrid. (In "Goblet of Fire," Molly also mentions   
that the Groundskeeper during her time was named "Og.")  
  
This lead me to believe that both Hagrid and Filch probably served long   
apprenticeships before each of them took over their current jobs, some   
time between the time that Molly and Arthur left Hogwarts, but before   
the days when Harry's parents, Sirius, Remus and Snape started their   
first year.  
  
Filch has a massive crush on McGonagall. I've been hinting at this for a   
while, but Filch is too frightened to admit his feelings, even to   
himself. He's "unworthy" of Minerva. He's not the sort who gets "ideas   
above his station."   
  
Ginny has already noticed Filch's feelings about McGonagall; Ginny is   
intelligent and perceptive. If this story cooperates, Harry, Ron and   
Hermione may notice Filch's feelings for McGonagall very soon.  
  
I love "With Quill in Trembling Hand!"   
  
The Death Eaters knew that they'd captured an Animagus, but they didn't   
know Sirius's identity. Wormtail, who would have known, was not among   
them.  
  
Pettigrew did not accompany Lord Voldemort, so Sirius isn't going to   
have to deal with the Rat in this story.  
  
I think that Filch would have been a Hufflepuff like his father. He   
values hard work above everything. He's persistent and determined.  
  
(Ozmaniacs? BLUSH!)  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!!  
  
ThePet: Thank you!!  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! Yes, Snape has lots of names for Sirius. He won't   
use most of them in public.  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! "Squibbles and Bits!" That made me laugh! (My   
sons refer to "The Squib & The Death Eaters" as "The Squib-Bits story.")  
  
Filch loves Minerva. He just doesn't know it. Even if he did realize how   
he feels about her, he would be afraid to to anything about it. "She's   
the Deputy Headmistress. And her magic is so strong! And she's so   
beautiful. Like a sword is beautiful... all smooth, clean lines..."   
(Blushes.) What could she ever see in me?"  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Yes, Snape was teasing Filch with the knive   
portkey. He couldn't resist. The idea of the other Death Eaters all   
owing Malfoy a Wizard's Debt if he protects them from the falling tower   
just popped into the story when I was typing. It's an idea that I may   
come back to, since it intrigued me.  
  
RioRaptor: Thank you!!  
  
Rabbit: Thank you!! Yes, Tom Riddle was the Heir of Slytherin, but I   
think he lost his "heir"ship when he renounced his humanity and became   
Voldemort. (I could be wrong, since Rowling hasn't said anything about   
this. But I liked this idea because it puts some philosophical distance   
between Slytherin House and the Death Eaters.)  
  
Yes, Moody doesn't trust Snape. Albus is the one who told Severus about   
Filch's abilities.  
  
Lucius is clever enough to recognize an Animagus, especially one that   
has stopped two Squib-napping attempts. The Death Eaters didn't know   
that the dog was Sirius Black, though.  
  
Snape's fate will be revealed soon.  
  
Enfleurage: Thank you!!   
  
UnrepententReader: Thank you!!  
  
Ryven: Thank you!! The same sort of scroll would not work as a method   
for stealing a normal wizard's powers. But it seems as if there *could*   
be some Dark magic that would allow one wizard to steal another wizard's   
magic. Or perhaps just steal something else that rightfully belongs to   
another wizard. (Uh oh... another story idea...!) 


	4. Out of the Frying Pan

To Save A Squib  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
A sequel to "The Way of the Squib"  
Chapter 4: Out of the Frying Pan  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
  
When I heard the high, cold voice of He Who Must Not Be Named, I   
was terrified. My first coherent thought was full of regret and anger.   
Mrs. Norris's kittens... I wasn't going to live to see them born. It   
wasn't fair...  
  
The Dark Lord moved towards the battered Gryffindor Animagus and   
me. The red light of the rising sun outlined his unnaturally tall, thin   
body. I could not help staring at him in horrified fascination. The   
blood-red slit-pupiled eyes glowing in the skull-white face, the flat   
nose with slits for nostrils, the pale, long-fingered hands... he did   
not look human; he was a creature of Darkness, wearing a human-like   
shape.  
  
As terrible as the sight of him was, the feel of the Dark magic   
that surrounded him was worse. His presence was an assault against every   
sense I possessed.  
  
I would have been moaning with fear, but I could not make a sound.  
  
The Gryffindor Animagus, injured though he was, moved protectively   
between me and the Dark Lord.  
  
He was too badly hurt to last long against this evil creature. The   
Gryffindor's breathing was more ragged than ever. The Death Eaters had   
tortured him. His left arm was wrapped around his side. He coughed   
painfully, right hand over his mouth. I saw his hand come away with   
blood, bright red, on his fingers. He was broken and wounded, deep   
inside.  
  
The Animagus might still have the strength to Apparate. He held   
the small grey stone, really a Transfigured girl named Callandra   
Moffitt, hidden in his left hand.  
  
Callandra, a fifteen year old Squib, had been kidnapped by Death   
Eaters and rescued by this wizard and myself. He could Apparate with her   
to safety!  
  
Too frightened to speak, I willed him silently to go! To take   
Callandra and leave me!  
  
The Animagus remained where he was, between the Evil One and me.   
It seemed that he was determined to save both Squibs.   
  
He took a stumbling step towards the Dark Lord, his feet rustling   
through the leaves in this small clearing. The sounds muffled the soft   
noise as, casually, he let the stone that was Callandra fall from his   
hand. I saw the stone resting, half-hidden, among the leaves. Just a   
small, grey unremarkable stone... nothing worth the Dark Lord's notice.  
  
Even if Voldemort killed us, as it was likely he was going to do,   
Callandra would be safe.  
  
Safe, but a stone!   
  
"Gryffindor idiot!" I thought. I was not worth the child's life.   
The Animagus should have been content with saving her. He was reckless,   
foolish... Severus had been right.  
  
Poor Severus. I could not help wondering if his "carefully   
calculated risks" had included the possible arrival of He Who Must Not   
Be Named. I couldn't ask him because he was now trapped beneath the   
ruins of Malfoy's tower with the other Death Eaters. I did not even know   
if he was alive.  
  
Voldemort's red eyes locked on the Animagus. He smiled a terrible   
smile.  
  
"Well met, Sirius Black."  
  
******  
  
"S-Sirius... B-Black...?" I tried to say it out loud. My mouth   
moved, but no words came out.  
  
This could not be true!  
  
The Animagus could not be Sirius Black!   
  
Sirius Black was a loyal follower of the Dark Lord! He'd betrayed   
James and Lily Potter. He'd murdered Peter Pettigrew, along with a   
street full of innocent, unsuspecting Muggles!  
  
He was a fugitive from Azkaban!  
  
A mad, dangerous Dark Wizard!  
  
Everyone knew these things!  
  
He'd been a wicked child too. Primarily responsible for the dark   
streak of malice that was evident in the worst of the Marauders'   
mischief. I'd known he was a bad one, ever since he was eleven years   
old!  
  
But... he'd saved Callandra.  
  
Severus, who had to know who the Animagus was (though he'd been   
wise enough not to tell me) had called Black an agent of Dumbledore's.   
Snape and Black had despised each other since their first year at   
Hogwarts. I had watched their mutual hatred grow deeper over time. But   
now they'd been working together to save the girl.  
  
The Headmaster himself had ordered Black to watch over Callandra.   
I had seen Black at Hogwarts, playing with Potter and his friends,   
accepting food from the boy's own hands! Surely, Black been there with   
Dumbledore's full knowledge and approval.   
  
And, now nearly unconscious on his feet, Sirius Black was bravely,   
albeit recklessly and foolishly about to loose his life trying to   
protect me from the Dark Lord.  
  
As much as I'd always disliked the boy, as much as I'd hated the   
man, it was obvious to me that Sirius Black was not a loyal follower of   
the Evil One.  
  
Hatred for He Who Must Not Be Named was evident in every line of   
Black's body. He was trembling, with pain and rage, not awe. He   
certainly did not fall to his knees to kiss the hem of the Dark One's   
robes.  
  
Instead, Black tried to spit at the monster. Blood stained his   
mouth.  
  
"Well met, indeed..." Black rasped.   
  
His hoarse, pain-filled voice was barely recognizable as the same   
one that had belonged to the wily child, always so pleased with his own   
cleverness.  
  
"Were you expecting to find your loyal followers waiting for their   
Master...?" Black continued, harshly.   
  
Jerking his head in the direction of the pile of rubble that was   
the fallen tower, he gave a harsh, barking laugh that left more blood   
flecks staining his mouth.  
  
"Take a good look! Nothing's there. Just ruins. And bodies in the   
ruins..."  
  
The Dark Lord looked past us, through the trees to where the tower   
should have been.  
  
Shock and anger flared in the blood-red snake's eyes.  
  
Black began laughing. An agonized laugh, that quickly became a   
helpless coughing fit.  
  
"What..." The Evil One hissed, glaring at the Animagus, "have you   
DONE?"  
  
"Given you some of your own back..." Sirius snarled, when he could   
talk again. His pale eyes were snapping fire, the only things that   
looked alive in his bruised and battered face.  
  
"Go on. Search through the rubble. Maybe you'll find some of them   
still living," he sneered.  
  
The Evil One hissed like a boiling cauldron. His wand was suddenly   
in his hand.   
  
He spoke angrily, and the words sounded like nothing in any human   
language. It was like the whisper of a brutally cold winter wind,   
through dead, dry leaves.  
  
The spell picked Black up like a rag doll. The Animagus landed,   
hard, on the ground, beside me.  
  
I winced. The sound of breaking bones had been sickening and   
unmistakable.  
  
Black cried out in agony.  
  
"You idiot!!" I cried, finding my voice at last. "Why didn't you   
leave me when you had the chance?"  
  
Radiating Darkness, He Who Must Not Be Named stalked towards us.  
  
My battle with Lucius Malfoy had left me too weak and badly hurt   
to stand. Still, I dragged myself forwards, trying to get between the   
monster and Sirius Black.  
  
Black lay crumpled on his side. He was still conscious, his eyes   
full of agony.  
  
"D-didn't want you to know who I-I was..." he whispered, almost   
wryly. "B-because you *never* believed me whenever I t-tried to tell you   
that I hadn't done s-something wrong. Knew you'd never believe I was   
innocent..."  
  
"I never believed anything you ever told me, because you were   
always guilty, before!" I snapped.  
  
There was no time for me to say anything else. The Evil One had   
reached us.  
  
The Dark Lord ignored me, speaking to the Animagus.  
  
"I have a use for you, Black. Both you and Dumbledore's pet Squib   
shall have the honor of serving me," He Who Must Not Be Named hissed. "I   
will let you live."  
  
"But, a small lesson is still in order."   
  
The Dark magic that surrounded the Evil One surged.  
  
It was warning enough.  
  
"Are you ready, Filch?" Severus had asked me, before he'd brought   
me to this place.   
  
"Do you have everything you need?"  
  
"Yes," I'd said.  
  
As things turned out, I had not needed Rita Skeeter's little   
trinket to fight the Death Eaters. But it was the only weapon available   
to me now.  
  
"Crucio!" The Dark Lord hissed, raising his wand.  
  
My fingers closed around a small hand mirror in my pocket.  
  
*******  
  
I'd thought that it was just an ordinary mirror. It had been in a   
file drawer in my office for years. But, when I'd used the thing on poor   
Alastor Moody, he and I had discovered differently.  
  
"This mirror was made for casting spells. And it's got a defensive   
spell on it too, for good measure. It reflects magic back, with nearly   
twice the original force," Mad Eye had told me.  
  
I'd wanted to ask Moody if he thought that the little mirror was   
capable of reflecting back spells as powerful as the Unforgivable   
Curses.  
  
But I'd been too afraid of what might happen. My teacher shares   
Severus Snape's tendency towards what Slytherins refer to as "Calculated   
Risks." (Slytherins refer to similar behavior in Gryffindors as   
"Reckless Stupidity." Both Slytherins and Gryffindors will insist that   
there's a world of difference between the two. I can't see it, myself.)  
  
Moody probably would have experimented by casting an Unforgivable   
Curse at me, just to see what would happen. The results would have been   
painful, for one or both of us. I did not want to suffer harm myself,   
and I did not want to hurt Moody. So, I had not asked, and the mirror   
was all but untested.  
  
*******  
  
The Dark Lord's Cruciatus Curse struck Rita Skeeter's Mirror,   
instead of Sirius Black.  
  
It reflected, striking He Who Must Not Be Named with nearly twice   
its original force.  
  
The Evil One's scream was a terrible thing to hear. A cold, high   
piercing wail that seemed to go on forever.  
  
My screams were swallowed up in his.  
  
The Curse had not struck me or Black. But the mirror had   
shattered.   
  
The Dark Lord had put so much power into his Curse that every bone   
in my right hand shattered, along with the mirror. The spell's shock   
wave ran down my right arm, to my shoulder, pulverizing the bones.  
  
The pain was incredible. I lost consciousness.   
  
Agony followed me down into darkness, along with the Dark Lord's   
screams.  
  
END OF CHAPTER FOUR  
*******  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Special Thanks to Lizard of Fire, who was first to ask if Rita Skeeter's   
spell-reflecting hand-mirror could reflect the Unforgivables.   
  
(The mirror originally had a different story-purpose, but that question   
put the last scene of this chapter, almost fully formed, into my brain.   
Honestly, could a double-strength Cruciatus happen to a more deserving   
Dark Wizard? ;-))  
  
Enfleurage: Thank you!!   
  
Bratkatze:: Thank you!!  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Yes, Filch agrees that Black would have   
been wise to just take Callandra and escape with her. But Sirius   
considered abandoning Filch to be an unacceptable option.  
  
Ooh! It's neat to know that I had the right idea about why those masked   
wizards wanted poor Uric!  
  
Melodie: Thank you!!   
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! Yes, Filch can appreciate magic in a way that   
wizards who use it every day can't.  
  
You were right about Filch's reaction to the discovery of Sirius's   
identity. Once Filch considered Sirius's actions, he overcame his   
mistrust.  
  
Filch has come a long way with his inferiority complex but he has a lot   
further to go before he could get up the nerve to approach Minerva as a   
suitor.  
  
Minerva does care for Filch very much, but she has not yet considered   
him in that light. This may change, slowly.   
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! Yes, the Doors only work in Hogwarts Castle, or on   
the grounds, within the "No Apparating/Disapparating" spell. But Moody's   
been trying to teach Filch to use every advantage he's got, and the   
Doors are only one of his weapons.  
  
Larania: Thank you!! (Evil? Moi?)   
  
Nightengale: Thank you!!  
  
Ezra: Thank you!! The notes are fun for me to write. Some of the stuff   
probably should be in the actual stories, but it can be tricky sometimes   
to fit things in using a first-person POV. The notes help me reveal   
things that I couldn't get to fit anywhere else.  
  
Rabbit: Thank you!! Hey, your Cliffhanger was EEEVIL! (I'll be checking   
for your next chapter as soon as I post this!)  
  
Yes, Lucius did destroy the scroll.   
  
Lyansidde: Thank you!! Like you, I hope I can keep up this pace, because   
this writing-thing is so much fun! But, eventually, I probably have to   
start sleeping again...  
  
UnrepentantReader: Thank you!!  
  
Pendragon: Thank you!! Stay tuned...  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!!  
  
RioRaptor: Thank you!! 


	5. Rescue

To Save A Squib  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "The Way of the Squib"  
Chapter 5: Rescue  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
I was drifting in and out of consciousness, lost in a fog of pain.   
My right hand, my right arm... all the bones within them had been   
shattered by the terrible power of the Cruciatus Curse thrown by He Who   
Must Not Be Named.  
  
Though I was in agony, the Curse itself had never touched me. I'd   
deflected it away from Sirius Black, the intended victim, using a mirror   
confiscated from a student named Rita Skeeter, years ago. The reflected   
Curse had bounced back and struck the Dark One with nearly twice its   
original force.  
  
The Dark Lord had been screaming somewhere nearby. Now his cries   
had fallen silent. But the sound had not been replaced by the noises   
common in a small wood in early spring. The creatures who dwelled here   
were still wary, and I knew why. My eyes were shut, but I knew the Dark   
One was not gone.   
  
He must have been able to recover from the terrible effects of his   
own double-strength curse. I could feel his foul magic being used,   
somewhere not too far off. And I could hear sounds coming from the   
direction of the ruined tower; heavy stones slowly moving and falling   
against each other.  
  
The noise filled me with fear, for myself and my companions.  
  
Sirius Black. The Animagus had lost his chance to escape because   
he'd been unwilling to abandon me. Black had been tortured by Death   
Eaters, and then badly wounded by the Dark Lord. His injuries would   
surely prove fatal if help did not reach him soon.  
  
And Callandra Moffitt; the fifteen year old girl Squib that both   
Black and I had come here to save. She'd been Transfigured into a stone   
and hidden close by, among the leaves that covered the ground. If Black   
and I did not survive who would know where she was? Or even what she   
was? Who would restore Callandra to her rightful self and bring her back   
to her worried family?  
  
Poor Severus Snape. His plan had worked well enough to free the   
girl from the Death Eaters, but he could not help any of us now. The   
Potions Master could not even help himself. He was trapped under the   
ruins of Lucius Malfoy's fallen tower. I did not know if he was alive or   
dead.  
  
Helpless, lost in pain and confusion, I drifted back into   
darkness.  
  
*******  
  
Meanwhile, events were occurring elsewhere in the Wizarding world;   
things that I did not know about until later.  
  
In the Gryffindor common room back at Hogwarts Castle, a fifteen   
year old boy had been sleeping restlessly in a chair by the fireplace.   
  
Plagued by a persistent pain which radiated from the lightning   
shaped scar on his forehead, Harry Potter had spent a terrible night.  
  
Unwilling to disturb the slumber of those who shared his room,   
(especially Neville, who was distraught with worry over the fate of his   
missing girlfriend, Callandra) Harry had not gone up to bed at all.  
  
Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, Harry's closest friends, had   
stayed down in the common room to keep him company. When he'd finally   
fallen asleep they'd taken turns keeping watch over him.   
  
It was Hermione's turn to sleep. She was curled up in her chair, a   
book clutched in her hand, her finger still carefully holding her place.  
  
Gangling legs stretched out in front of him, Ron Weasley was   
troubled as he watched the nightmares scurry over Harry's pale face.  
  
Helpless inactivity was not in Ron's nature. Nor was it much to   
his liking. His hands clenched with sympathy and alarm as Harry cried   
out in anguish.  
  
"Sirius!!! No...!"  
  
*******  
  
In the wee hours of the morning the three children hurried through   
the Castle corridors, unchallenged by anyone.  
  
(Harry had told Ron and Hermione that they did not have to worry   
about meeting me. He knew that catching students and assigning   
detentions were currently the very last concerns on my mind.)  
  
"Pepper Imps!" Harry told the Gargoyle. It came to life and jumped   
aside.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione rushed up the moving spiral staircase. The   
Headmaster was still out. But, as always, he had left the Castle in very   
capable hands.  
  
Minerva had been offered the use of the couch in Dumbledore's   
office, if she needed to rest.  
  
But the children found her awake. She'd been waiting for some word   
of Callandra, Sirius, Severus and me. Though the source of the news was   
unexpected, Minerva knew what to do with the information brought to her   
by the children.  
  
*******  
  
Past caring, neither Black nor I heard our rescuer approaching on   
silent, cat feet.  
  
A firm, cool hand stroked the side of my face, and a soft voice   
called my name. With difficulty, I opened my eyes.  
  
For a brief moment, preoccupied with the pain, I did not recognize   
the lovely grey eyed woman who was kneeling between Sirius Black and me.   
Then I knew her.   
  
Minerva! She must not linger in this dangerous place for a moment   
longer than necessary.  
  
"The D-Dark Lord... h-he's still near... his Dark magic... I can   
feel it," I managed to whimper. "C-Callandra Moffitt. Sirius Black. You   
have t-to get them away from here, quickly..."  
  
"I know, Argus. And you, too."  
  
Sirius Black was lying so still. His eyes were shut. I hoped that   
he was just unconscious.  
  
"Black's... alive?"  
  
"Yes," Minerva assured me. Her other hand was resting gently on   
Black's throat, under his bruised jaw. The Animagus still clung   
stubbornly to life. From the expression on Minerva's face, she clearly   
feared for him.  
  
"Callandra... Black T-Transfigured her. She's a stone..."  
  
"I'll find her," Minerva said.  
  
I was not sure how one goes about finding an object that is really   
a Transfigured person, but I had faith that Minerva could do so.  
  
Transfiguration is a particularly difficult field of magical   
study, but it was Minerva McGonagall's specialty. She's familiar with   
every aspect and application in her area of expertise.   
  
It was not long before she was back at my side, clutching a small,   
grey stone.  
  
"Now, for the pair of you..." Minerva murmured. "This is going to   
be extremely unpleasant. But necessary."  
  
Crouching between Sirius and me, Professor McGonagall turned us   
both into stones, like Callandra. First Sirius, then me.  
  
"Extremely unpleasant" was an understatement.  
  
Transfiguring badly injured animate objects into inanimate objects   
for easy transport via Apparation is a tricky and complex piece of   
magic. The last time it had been necessary for Minerva to do this to me   
I'd been unconscious during the entire process.  
  
This time, I was awake when she started. Mercifully, the pain in   
my hand and arm made me faint after a few moments.  
  
*******  
  
With three small stones clutched in her arms as carefully as if   
they'd been fresh-laid eggs, Minerva Apparated as close to the Castle as   
she could, into the village of Hogsmeade.   
  
Then she dashed into the Three Broomsticks to ask Rosmerta for the   
use of her fireplace.  
  
From the fireplace of the Three Broomsticks it was only a short   
journey via Floo Powder (borrowed from Rosmerta,) to Poppy's fireplace   
in the hospital wing.  
  
*******  
  
Minerva Transfigured Callandra back to her rightful shape first.   
Physically unhurt, but confused and badly frightened, the girl was   
comforted by Poppy and Minerva. Then she was given a sleeping draught   
and tucked into a bed in the hospital wing.  
  
Transfiguring inanimate objects back into animate objects is far   
more dangerous and complicated when the animate objects in question are   
very badly hurt.  
  
Fortunately, Albus Dumbledore returned to the Castle, after   
another busy sleepless night. He was just in time to assist Minerva with   
the delicate spells involved.   
  
As soon as Albus saw Callandra asleep in the front ward, he wrote   
a quick note to the Moffits, telling them that Callandra was safe at   
Hogwarts Castle. Then he summoned a house elf, handed the note to her   
and asked her to send an owl at once.   
  
The Headmaster had just been with Hyacinth and Reuben Moffit,   
supporting them while they tried to convince the Minister of Magic to   
listen to their evidence that the Death Eaters had kidnapped their   
daughter.  
  
The Minister had been very sympathetic to the plight of the   
distraught parents. But on the subject of the Dark Lord and his   
followers he'd remained just as stubborn as ever.  
  
"Now, now. Jumping to desperate conclusions will not help find   
your daughter. We shall discover the real culprits, whoever they are!"   
He'd promised. "And we shall return the child to you! Do not give up   
hope."  
  
Numb with grief and worry, the Moffitts had only just arrived at   
their home, when Dumbledore's owl had reached them.  
  
*******  
  
Callandra Moffitt and her parents had a tearful reunion in the   
front ward of the hospital wing.  
  
In order to give them their privacy, the rest of us were placed in   
the back ward.  
  
Sirius Black's bed was across from mine. The heavily bandaged   
Animagus was in his dog form once more, to preserve his anonymity. It   
seemed that not many people were aware of his secret.  
  
The huge beast lay sprawled across his bed with his shaggy head   
resting on Harry Potter's knees. The boy, pale with lack of sleep, had   
dark shadows under his green eyes. But his face was filled with relief.   
  
Harry was sitting cross legged on the bed, one hand resting   
protectively on the sleeping dog's bandaged back.   
  
"Do you know who that *is?*" I asked Harry, Ron and Hermione.  
  
Hermione and Ron had both pulled chairs over beside the bed. Poppy   
had known that neither of them would leave Harry or the dog just yet, so   
she had not even bothered asking them to go.  
  
"Yeah. He's my godfather," Harry answered drowsily, yawning. "My   
Dad's best friend."  
  
Clearly, there was a long story here, but I was in no condition to   
hear it at the moment. Poppy had given me a dose of something incredibly   
nasty called Skele-Gro.  
  
"Broken bones I can mend in a second, but yours have been   
completely pulverized," she told me, shaking her head in dismay.   
  
"Don't worry. Your hand and arm should be good as new in a few   
days... a week at most, even if the next few hours are going to be   
rather rough. A pain killing potion would interfere with the Skele-Gro's   
effectiveness." Poppy said.  
  
My right hand and arm were now filled with terrible fiery pains.   
  
I was curled around my injured arm, trying not to moan too often   
or too loudly. At least this pain was thoroughly distracting me from the   
discomfort in my jaw from my missing tooth and the throbbing wound in my   
shoulder from the strip of skin that Severus had removed.  
  
Professor McGonagall had been glad to hand the responsibility for   
the Castle back over to Albus. She'd remained with her young lions, past   
and present, drawing strength from the knowledge that they were safe.  
  
Minerva was sitting beside me which was a comfort, even though I   
was a complete mess. She'd seen me looking even worse, after all.  
  
I was able to doze for a bit. When I woke, I discovered that my   
good hand was clasped gently in Minerva's. Mrs. Norris had found me as   
well, she was curled up beside me, fast asleep.  
  
My cat was looking far rounder than usual, heavily pregnant as she   
was. (Poppy had palpated her, and said that there seemed to be a rather   
large litter on the way.)  
  
The pain in my right arm and hand had eased a great deal. I   
blushed as I slid my left hand from Professor McGonagall's. Minerva is   
the strongest woman I know, but tonight's waiting and worrying had   
understandably taken a toll on her. Sometimes, it helps to have another   
creature nearby, just to hold on to.   
  
I wasn't sure which one of us had reached for the other's hand,   
but I hoped that she hadn't thought me too forward or disrespectful.  
  
Bright sunlight was streaming through the windows of the hospital   
wing. At some point, while I slept, Ron and Hermione had been persuaded   
to go back to Gryffindor tower to rest in their own beds.   
  
Harry had not wanted to leave Sirius. The boy was curled up,   
asleep in a chair beside his godfather's bed.  
  
It was then, while the ward was quiet and Harry and Sirius were   
sleeping, that Minerva finally told me about the most dangerous aspect   
of her rescue mission.  
  
The Dark Lord had been in her sight the entire time, standing by   
the ruins of Malfoy's tower.   
  
Leaving Black and me lying wounded, He Who Must Not Be Named had   
been carefully sorting through the rubble, stone by stone, seeking his   
six loyal Death Eaters and his seventh very disloyal one, (though he did   
not know that.) My awareness of the powerful Dark magic he was using had   
been part of my general discomfort and pain.  
  
Professor McGonagall had seen the Evil One's unnaturally tall,   
thin body standing in the ruins, still as a statue. His right arm was   
outstretched, glowing wand clutched in his long, spider-like hands. The   
air all around him was filled with levitating stones. He sought to   
uncover the tower's lower chamber, where Malfoy, Severus and the others   
had been trapped.   
  
Fortunately, the Dark Lord's back had been towards Minerva and he   
had been fully intent on his own task.  
  
Minerva had been very quick and stealthy; there and gone in a   
matter of minutes. He Who Must Not Be Named had not known of her   
presence in the wood.  
  
"D-Do you think He Who Must Not Be Named is actually *concerned*   
about them...?" I asked her, hesitantly. "His followers?"  
  
Minerva's lovely face grew angry and her mouth became a thin line.  
  
"They're tools to him, Argus, nothing more. He does not like to   
see them broken or damaged, at least not by any hand other than his   
own," she said, grimly.  
  
"No, I did not see him find anyone..." she added in a very soft   
voice, in answer to the question that I'd been afraid to ask.  
  
Both of us were desperately worried about poor Severus, whose fate   
remained a mystery.  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER FIVE  
*******  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! You're right about the next chapter... here it   
is!  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Until now, Filch considered the words "Sirius   
Black" and "innocent" as far too incongruous to belong in the same   
sentence. Filch would still have a hard time believing that Black, the   
student, had *ever* been innocent of whatever crime (schoolboy prank)   
he'd been accused of.  
  
In "Goblet of Fire" Molly doesn't say that Filch and Hagrid were around   
in her day, but I assumed that they were there as apprentices because it   
seemed reasonable and Rowling didn't say they *weren't* there.   
  
(When you're looking in "Goblet of Fire" the scene is right before   
Harry's last task. Molly mentions both Ogg and Pringle when she's   
talking to Harry and Bill.)  
  
You can read my mind! That song is the EXACT one that went through my   
head when I first thought of Argus being in love with Minerva. The idea   
wasn't something I'd actually planned, it just sort of evolved. Every   
time Argus shared a scene with Minerva he noticed her beauty, her   
strength and her cat-like grace. So I decided to make his feelings   
official.  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! (I've got a vacation coming up... two weeks   
in July. My family goes camping in the woods, with no electricity. God,   
how will I survive??)  
  
Voldemort is many things, but he's not stupid. He needs his Death   
Eaters, not because he cares about them, but because they are useful.   
  
I was kind of sad to see the mirror broken too. But it was sacrificed in   
a good cause.  
  
RioRaptor: Thank you!! Sirius knows that Filch saved him from both the   
Death Eaters and the collapsing tower. He was surprised and impressed.   
(Not to mention glad that the caretaker had never had access to magic   
powers years ago, when Sirius and the other Marauders made Filch so   
furious with their pranks.)  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Sirius did not consider what he was doing   
reckless... he would have argued that he had no choice. Filch had just   
saved his life, and Sirius could not abandon the caretaker. As for being   
rude, and telling off the Dark Lord... well, how could Sirius pass up a   
chance like that?  
  
Now, if Harry had behaved similarly in an equally dangerous situation,   
Sirius would be very upset over his godson's recklessness.  
  
Rabbit: Thank you!! YES!! You're still writing!! Lucius Malfoy is too   
intriguing for me to want to kill.  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!! Yes, Filch still intends to have words with both   
Sirius and Severus about their rescue mission, as soon as Sirius   
recovers a bit, and poor Severus turns up. Fortunately, Poppy was able   
to take care of Filch's hand and arm.  
  
Emma: Thank you!!  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! Filch can be stubborn, but even he could not   
continue to believe that Sirius was a supporter of the Dark Lord after   
he watched the confrontation between the two.  
  
UnrepentantReader: Thank you!!  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! Yes, fortunately, Skele-gro will work on Squibs,   
though not as quickly.  
  
BeSnaped: Thank you!!  
  
Larania: Thank you!! (And OUCH!!) 


	6. This Hospital Wing Isn't Big Enough

To Save A Squib  
A Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "The Way of the Squib"  
Chapter 6: This Hospital Wing Isn't Big Enough  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
An entire day had passed with no word from Severus, and without   
any news of the missing Potions Master.   
  
It was now growing dark outside. I was half out of my mind with   
worry, and pain.   
  
Anxious as I was, a glance at the small table beside my bed in the   
hospital wing comforted me. There were actually cards and gifts there   
from children, something that had never happened to me before.  
  
Ginny Weasley had made a lovely card and given me a small basket   
of toys that she'd made for Mrs. Norris's kittens. Hermione Granger had   
presented me with a ledger. There was a note tucked inside, saying that   
the ledger would be very useful for recording the weights of each kitten   
at birth and for charting their growth over the first few weeks.   
  
(I confess that the idea quite delighted me. I had not thought of   
doing such a thing until Hermione had suggested it.)   
  
Colin Creevey had presented me with the remainder of his current   
bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. He'd reminded me that both he   
and his brother Dennis would really, really like to have kittens of   
their own.  
  
"It would probably be best if they were both girls. Or boys.   
Because cats don't worry about things like being brothers and sisters,   
do they, Mr. Filch? Of course, Dennis and I are going to have to have   
them fixed the Muggle way, when they get to be a bit bigger. It's my Mum   
and Dad's rule. Do you suppose that Professor Flitwick could teach me   
and Dennis to work the No-Kittens Charm that you used to have on Mrs.   
Norris...?"  
  
I have grown rather fond of Colin, but his ability to go for long   
periods of time without needing to breathe could probably confound a   
kelpie.  
  
Mercifully, Ron Weasley had distracted Colin with a remark about   
Quidditch practice. And then Colin had begun chattering happily away to   
Ron.  
  
Neville had sat with me for a long while, shyly clasping Callandra   
Moffit's hand in his. Neville had bravely asked Callandra's parents if   
he could "show her around a bit, just inside the Castle. She'll be quite   
safe, really."   
  
Reuben Moffitt had seen the hopeful look on his daughter's face.   
He'd agreed, though Hyacinth Moffitt had bitten her lip and looked   
anxious.  
  
"It will do Callie good to spend a bit of time with children her   
own age, especially now..." Mr. Moffit had told his wife soothingly, his   
arm around Hyacinth's tense shoulders.   
  
"And the boy is right. The Castle is quite safe."  
  
Neville and Callandra had made a card for me, together. Neville   
had written a brief message and Callandra had painted a picture on it   
using an enchanted brush.  
  
A Squib can make excellent use of magical tools. I've done so many   
times. Callandra does have a gift for art, despite her telling Neville,   
shyly, that she "wasn't really very good."   
  
She'd painted a portrait of a sleeping Mrs. Norris which looked   
very much like my sweet cat did at the moment; very round and pregnant.   
The tiny cat-portrait on the card was now purring at me from my bedside   
table.  
  
Poor Callandra was clearly badly shaken from her ordeal. She   
remembered very little of what had happened to her; confused   
recollections of masked and hooded men dragging her into a stone tower   
and a huge black dog who had fought them off, trying to protect her.  
  
Naturally Callandra recognized the dog who'd rescued her when she   
set eyes on him again.   
  
She did not know that he was really a wizard. Sirius Black:   
unregistered Animagus, convicted-but-innocent murderer, former Marauding   
troublemaker, and godfather of Harry Potter.   
  
Sirius had been awake, on and off, during the day although he'd   
been very groggy with pain-killing potions. His shaggy black fur was a   
patchwork of healing wounds and bandages. The Animagus had managed to   
thump his tail weakly in acknowledgment when Callandra stroked him   
gently and thanked him for the rescue.   
  
Reuben and Hyacinth Moffit clearly did not know that Sirius was an   
Animagus. They showered their thanks on both Harry and Sirius, assuming   
as they had on the day of the Hogwarts garden party, that Sirius was   
nothing more than Harry's pet dog.  
  
For the time being, they were too relieved at their daughter's   
safe return to wonder how any dog, even a wizard's familiar, could have   
saved Callandra from Death Eaters.  
  
Harry, who had remained by Sirius's bedside for most of the day,   
had blushed and thanked the Moffitts on his godfather's behalf, agreeing   
that "Snuffles" was certainly a dog unlike any other.  
  
And so, the day itself had not been too bad. There had been enough   
people and noise to distract me from the passing hours. Though my worry   
over Severus had increased steadily.  
  
"Has there been any word yet?" I asked Minerva, when she came in   
to the ward to check on everyone. The expression on her face had already   
given me the answer, but I could not help asking anyhow.  
  
She'd shaken her head at me, her mouth a thin line of worry.   
  
*******  
  
Poppy had just gone downstairs for a late dinner. Before she'd   
left, she'd checked the Skele-Gro's progress on my shattered right arm   
and right hand.  
  
"Hmm. It's working well enough, but it's taking longer than usual.   
The effects have yet to truly reach your hand. Though that should happen   
some time soon, I'm afraid. I'm sorry, Argus. The pain may get a good   
deal worse again, before it gets better."  
  
"I'll be all right," I told Poppy, gruffly. She'd had a long day,   
and she needed her dinner.  
  
With Poppy gone, the hospital wing was left in the small, capable   
hands of Winky, the house-elf. The industrious little creature went to   
work with a will.   
  
She straightened Sirius's blankets and fluffed his pillows,   
assuring Harry that the Animagus was resting quite comfortably. Then,   
after she'd done the same for me, Winky proceeded to feed Mrs. Norris.   
  
The elf enjoyed fussing gently for a while over my pregnant cat,   
before departing the hospital wing for duties elsewhere.  
  
Moaning, I curled up into a miserable ball and used my good arm to   
pull the blankets over my head.  
  
Still no news about Severus.   
  
And the Skele-Gro had finally started working on my poor hand.  
  
*******  
  
The fiery discomfort of my mending bones had me tossing and   
turning so much that Mrs. Norris had given up on trying to sleep next to   
me. Looking quite put out, she'd gone to curl up in the chair next to my   
bed instead.  
  
My occasional groans must have been audible from Potter's side of   
the room.  
  
"Mr. Filch? It'll be all right," the boy said, awkwardly. Potter   
was clearly not comfortable watching another person suffer.  
  
"Skele-Gro doesn't hurt forever. It only feels that way." Harry   
assured me.  
  
"Shouldn't you be back in Gryffindor Tower?" I tried to growl but   
it came out as more of a pathetic whimper.  
  
"I'm going to stay here with Sirius unless Madam Pomfrey comes   
back and tosses me out," the boy said. He wasn't being defiant, merely   
stating a fact.  
  
"Er... can I do anything to help you?" he asked.   
  
"Yes..." I gasped. "If you could somehow dispose of every last   
drop of this infernal Skele-Gro' before Poppy can ever use it on me   
again I'd consider it a great favor."  
  
Oh, Sweet Circe. Had I really said that to the son of James   
Potter, not to mention the godson of Sirius Black? I must be delirious.  
  
"You didn't hear that, Potter,..." I said.  
  
"Hear what?" The boy replied.   
  
My eyes were shut, but I could hear the grin in his voice.  
  
The next time he spoke, Harry Potter was standing right beside my   
bed.  
  
"Mr. Filch? I haven't thanked you yet. You stopped that curse from   
hitting Sirius. I-I saw what happened. It's because of my scar...   
sometimes, I can see what Voldemort..."  
  
"Circe's Pigs! Don't ever say his name, boy!" I cried. My eyes   
flew open as I trembled.   
  
At first I didn't even realize what he was telling me. "If you say   
his name, He Who Must Not Be Named will c-come and..."  
  
"He'll come for me eventually anyway. Whether I say his name or   
not," Potter told me. He sounded far older than his years again. The   
expression in his eyes made him look older than his poor father, James,   
ever had.  
  
Abruptly, I remembered exactly who I was talking to.  
  
Facing the Dark Lord had been the most terrifying experience of my   
life.   
  
But Harry Potter had faced and defeated the Evil One before he   
could walk or talk. And he'd done it again, twice since.  
  
I was still shaking.   
  
The boy rested a gentle hand on my shoulder.  
  
"You hurt him, Mr. Filch," Harry said, fiercely. "You did." There   
was a hard look in his green eyes.  
  
"You'd think he'd learn. He ought to be more careful about the   
curses he throws at `helpless' people. Those curses have a way of   
getting thrown right back in his face, don't they? It's too bad that   
your mirror broke."  
  
Looking at him in wonder, I murmured, "Blessed Ambrosius. You   
truly did see what happened, didn't you?"  
  
The boy nodded.   
  
"Harry...?" I asked anxiously, "Did you see anything that happened   
after your godfather and I faced The Dark Lord? I-I'm terribly worried   
about Professor Snape."  
  
Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Filch. No. I haven't. The   
Headmaster thinks that I... that my scar lets me see Vol- er... You Know   
Who whenever he's near me, or feeling especially murderous."  
  
Potter took a deep breath. "If he's not feeling murderous, well,   
that's a good sign, isn't it?"  
  
"I suppose so," I said. But I was still anxious.  
  
Potter stayed beside me for a while, talking to distract me from   
the pain. He began explaining exactly how he knew that Sirius Black was   
an innocent man. It was an incredible story, certainly enough to make me   
forget about my aching hand.  
  
When Poppy returned to check on us, Potter asked her if he could   
spend the night.  
  
Poppy sighed and agreed.  
  
"Has anyone heard from Severus?" I asked her as she turned to go.  
  
Poppy shook her head sadly.  
  
*******  
  
I was able to doze for a while. A slight rustling sound woke me.   
  
Severus???  
  
Sitting bolt upright, I expected to see Professor Snape. But it   
was Sirius Black. In his human form, which looked as badly battered as   
his canine one.  
  
Very wobbly on his feet, Sirius was standing beside his bed, wand   
clutched in one bandaged hand. Harry had fallen asleep in his chair, and   
Sirius was carefully levitating the boy onto the bed. Then he gently   
pulled a blanket over Harry.  
  
"Heard any news of that oily git yet?" Sirius Black asked me,   
gruffly, when he noticed that I was awake.  
  
I shook my head.  
  
Wincing, Black slid himself gingerly into Harry's chair.   
  
We waited.  
  
*******  
  
"Well, isn't this a cozy little scene..." a weary, but caustic   
voice sneered.  
  
Black and I, half dozing, both jerked upright. The sudden movement   
made both of us gasp with pain.  
  
Severus Snape probably would have found this amusing. But he did   
not appear to have the strength.  
  
The Potions Master was terribly pale. He looked as if he was about   
to fall down. He was limping, moving slowly as if every bone in his body   
hurt.   
  
I tensed, trying to identify the spell I could sense around him.  
  
No foul after-taste of the Cruciatus, which was a relief. But,   
there was something around him; not Dark magic, just a tantalizingly   
familiar spell.  
  
"Professor," I cried. "Where have you *been?*"  
  
He glared at me. "The answer should be obvious, Filch! I've been   
lying under an extremely large pile of very heavy stones! A damned idiot   
Squib dropped a tower on me! Were you trying to kill us all?"  
  
Stricken, I shook my head.  
  
Black came to my defense.  
  
"Leave him alone, Snape. He did fine. Are you saying that you   
didn't have the possibility of the tower's destruction figured into your   
little calculations?" The Animagus asked, sarcastically.  
  
"No!" Snape hissed at him. "I did NOT. I expected the tower to   
remain standing! I expected you, Filch and the girl to be long gone by   
the time the Dark Lord actually arrived!"  
  
I bit my lip.  
  
"Professor, I'm sor..."  
  
Snape ignored me, glaring at Black. "It was hard enough for me to   
plan around the actions of one reckless idiot, let alone two! You flea-  
bitten excuse for a wizard! What were you thinking when you Transfigured   
that child?"  
  
Black's pale eyes locked angrily with Snape's dark ones.  
  
"I was thinking," the Animagus growled, "that Voldemort would   
probably show up sooner than the lot of you seemed to expect! And I was   
thinking that the girl was better off safely hidden while I still had   
the strength to do it! Almost any fate was preferable than leaving   
Callandra trapped and helpless in Voldemort's hands!"  
  
"For Merlin's sake, don't keep saying his name!" I moaned.  
  
Both wizards ignored me.  
  
"You reckless, stupid... Gryffindor!" Severus snarled at Black.   
"The child could have been lost forever!"  
  
"If you had been watching your slimy Slytherin friends at the   
party, the way you were supposed to, she may never have been endangered   
in the first place!" Black growled back.  
  
"It was a miscalculation..." Snape hissed with rage, absolutely   
livid. "You know all about miscalculations, don't you, Black? Not seeing   
the true danger until it's too already too late, and innocent lives are   
shattered?"  
  
"Will both of you SHUT UP?" I cried. "You're worse now than when   
you were children! I ought to clap the pair of you in chains, whether   
Dumbledore allows me to or not!"  
  
The Animagus was making a very visible effort to calm down. He   
averted his eyes from Snape and lowered himself gingerly onto the edge   
of Harry's bed. "He's right, Snape. We're going to wake up Harry."  
  
Snape was silent, breathing hard. He was furious and clearly in   
pain.  
  
"Professor...?" I said, "are you hurt?"  
  
"I'm fine," he snarled.  
  
This was a lie. There was a spell around him, even if it did not   
appear to be a Dark one. It was hauntingly familiar, but I hadn't placed   
it yet.  
  
"What of the girl?" Snape asked Black, in clipped tones. He was   
averting his eyes from Black the same way that the Animagus was   
carefully not looking at him. "Callandra is safe?"  
  
"Yes," Black said quietly. His battered face relaxed. "Callandra   
is safe and with her family. She's a brave girl, and I think she'll be   
fine. The Moffitts are all still here, in the Castle. The Headmaster   
invited them to stay the night."  
  
"Good," Snape said.  
  
Both of them appeared relieved to have found at least one thing   
that they could completely agree on.  
  
"So, the Dark Lord must have been in quite a foul temper when he   
finally finished digging all of you out of the rubble. Did he admit that   
he'd just been knocked on his arse by a Squib?" Sirius asked,   
conversationally.  
  
Severus's dark eyes widened. "That was *Filch*?" he asked, looking   
at Black, incredulously. "The Dark Lord appeared to be blaming you."  
  
The Animagus snorted. "That figures."  
  
Snape pierced me with his obsidian stare. "Filch, how did you...?"  
  
"I had a mirror that reflects spells back, only twice as strong."   
I said. "It was confiscated it from a student, years ago. The Dark   
Lord's Curse broke it. Along with my arm, and my hand..." I added,   
ruefully.  
  
Snape shook his head.  
  
"Yes, Black, you might say that the Dark Lord was in something of   
a foul temper," Severus said, after a moment.   
  
In a quiet, almost toneless voice, Snape told both of us what had   
happened after the Dark Lord had retrieved his followers.  
  
*******  
  
Severus's story confirmed my fears. He, as well as the other six   
Death Eaters, now owed a Wizard's Debt to Lucius Malfoy. Twice over.   
  
Even while he was fighting me for control of his powers, Malfoy   
was using a powerful shielding charm to protect himself and his   
companions. None of them had suffered any injuries worse than bruises   
when the tower fell, Severus said.  
  
Though they had spent what felt like a considerable length of time   
lying badly battered and unconscious underneath the rubble. This had   
been quite unpleasant, but not as dangerous as their Lord's rage.  
  
Malfoy had saved the others a second time.  
  
He had knelt before the Dark Lord and accepted full responsibility   
for what had happened. Malfoy had stood between all the others and the   
Dark Lord's anger.  
  
He Who Must Not Be Named had been furious enough at the loss of a   
second Squib scroll. The discovery that his wounded prisoners had   
vanished from the wood had not improved his temper.   
  
"Lucius was still screaming when the rest of us were strong enough   
to Apparate away." Snape said, still in the same toneless voice. But his   
dark eyes were haunted.  
  
The Animagus exchanged a glance with me. Neither one of us could   
muster much sympathy for Lucius Malfoy.   
  
I was hoping that the Evil One had finished Malfoy off completely.   
That slippery, powerful Dark wizard must not demand repayment of the   
Wizard's Debt that poor Severus now owed him.  
  
"Is h-he... is Malfoy dead?" I asked, hesitantly.  
  
"No. I doubt that the Dark Lord would be merciful enough to permit   
Lucius to die," Snape answered.  
  
He looked at me, warningly. "Malfoy makes a dangerous enemy.   
Unlike the Dark Lord, he understands and completely accepts your role in   
last night's events. Beware of him, Argus. If he should ever have you at   
his mercy again, he will make you beg for death. Whether he finds   
another Squib scroll or not. Do you understand me? You must stay away   
from Lucius Malfoy."  
  
"Yes, Professor," I said. My voice shook. "I will."  
  
"Naturally, Lucius and the others do not expect you to remember   
any of what happened last night," Snape continued. He smiled at me,   
without humor.  
  
"Consider yourself duly Obliviated, Filch. And remember my   
warning."  
  
"Yes, Professor," I repeated, shivering.  
  
Snape held his weary, aching body as straight as ever but   
something about him seemed more relaxed, as if he'd completed an   
unpleasant, but necessary task.  
  
"Now, I must go and make my report to the Headmaster..." he said.  
  
"Professor, wait!" I said. "You're using a glamour. I recognize   
it; a spell that lets others look at you and see what they expect to   
see."  
  
Snape glared at me.  
  
"He is? How can you tell?" Black asked.  
  
I shook my head. "I-it's hard to explain. The glamour has a sort   
of... smell to it."  
  
Abruptly, the Animagus resumed his dog-shape and sniffed at the   
Potions Master.  
  
Snape looked outraged.  
  
Black resumed his human form, more wobbly on two legs than he'd   
been on four.   
  
"I don't smell anything," he said. "Worse than usual..." he added,   
unable to resist.  
  
"You do smell a bit bloody though, Snape. Is that what you're   
covering up? How badly are you hurt?"  
  
Severus glared at both of us. "I've already told you. It's nothing   
worse than bruises and scrapes. It looks far worse than it is."  
  
The worried look on my face made Snape snarl with frustration. He   
took out his wand and dropped the glamour.  
  
I gasped in sympathy.  
  
Even Black winced.  
  
I'd never seen anyone so badly bruised in my life. Not even me,   
after Lucius Malfoy had thrown me down the front steps of the Castle and   
bounced me off Hagrid for good measure.  
  
"Surely Lucius Malfoy could have protected you a bit better than   
that!" I blurted out.  
  
Snape sighed. "I shall do all of us a favor, and *not* pass along   
your message for Malfoy, the next time I see him."  
  
"Poppy ought to have a look at you! You should be in the hospital   
wing..." I said.  
  
Sirius Black and Severus Snape exchanged a look. Both of them   
shuddered.  
  
"Albus won't be able to sense this spell. Neither will Poppy.   
They're not Squibs." Snape said, restoring the glamour.  
  
He followed this statement up with a stern glare in my direction,   
warning me not to give away his secret. He already knew that Black   
wouldn't give him away.  
  
Both wizards knew that the hospital wing was simply not big enough   
for the two of them.  
  
  
THE END  
********  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Well, this one's over now. I may take a few days off and catch up on   
some sleep before I start working on the story where Mrs. Norris has her   
kittens.   
  
Harry was awake for the conversation between Sirius, Snape and Filch, of   
course. :-)  
  
Quoth the Raven: Thank you!! Filch is quite fond of Callandra, too and   
is glad that she has not been too squashed by the world as of yet.  
  
Miriam: Thank you!! I agree that both Minerva and Argus have too much   
dignity to get icky. Neither one of them is really aware of the   
attraction yet. It's all non-verbal. Other people may notice before they   
do. (Ginny already has, and now Hermione, Harry and Ron saw McGonagall   
holding Filch's hand while he slept. And even Moaning Myrtle saw Minerva   
comforting a very distraught Argus, in an earlier story.)  
  
I don't think that Fudge will pay attention to anyone that he considers   
"Dumbledore's." Fudge is both jealous of Dumbledore and dependent on his   
power, which is an uncomfortable combination.  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! Minerva is brave, isn't she? I had fun with her   
in rescue-mode. She seemed like the most logical person to rescue them;   
a specialist in Transfiguration, already familiar with the location of   
Malfoy's tower, able to recognize it from the description of what Harry   
saw his dream.  
  
Besides that, I enjoy putting Argus and Minerva together, hoping they'll   
get a clue...  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!! I loved what you said about prying open Fudge's   
skull to see if anything is inside! He's a little man in a big job,   
who's too blind and foolish to grow into a big man.  
  
I liked the idea of Neville and Callandra too. They'll be good for each   
other.  
  
Filch doesn't know he's in love yet. His first reaction when he figures   
it out will probably be denial. Right now, he's just happy to worship   
the ground that Minerva walks on, whether it's on two feet or four.  
  
RowanRhys: Thank you!! Communications Theory!! That was my major too!! I   
think I'm going to have to start sleeping again. I'm turning into a   
zombie.  
  
Callandra's mom's attitude is one that I know from the inside too... one   
of my sons has dyslexia and learning disabilities. Watching him   
constantly struggling with things that most other people take for   
granted as "easy" can break my heart. This is probably another reason   
why I responded so strongly to Argus "Magically Challenged in a Wizard's   
World" Filch, and wanted so much to tell stories from his point of view.   
Thank you for your insightful comments, you made me think too!  
  
Demeter: Thank you!! And Thank you for reviewing all the older stories   
too!! You really made my day!!  
  
Draco and Pansy will both put in an appearance in the next story; the   
one with the kittens. That story is still taking shape at the moment.  
  
I agree that everyone, heroes and villains, are complex individuals.   
Poor Sirius has a dark side, and there's much more to Lucius Malfoy than   
an evil man. (Heck, Voldemort is very complex, but I'm not going into   
*his* head...)  
  
Like you, I believe that Snape would do anything to spare the children   
of Slytherin the difficult choices that he needed to make. (I'm still   
trying to work the image of Snape's personal boggart into a story; the   
boggart would be shifting between all the children of Slytherin, either   
dead, dying, or bearing the Dark Mark on their arms. His worst fear, and   
it's not for himself... it's for his children.)  
  
Ryven: Thank you!! Yes, Filch is definitely a cat person...  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! I found the image of Voldie collecting his "tools"   
rather creepy too.   
  
Ezra: Thank you!! Snape was determined to stay out of the hospital wing   
in this story. And Sirius was willing to help him, because he's going to   
be stuck there for a while and he didn't want Severus for a roommate.  
  
Snowing? In April? *Shiver*  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! I may have used up my store of ideas before   
I go camping in July, but who knows... I keep thinking that I'm finished   
and then another idea jumps out and grabs me. Maybe "The Order of the   
Phoenix" will even be out by then, and I'll have a whole new source of   
inspiration!  
  
RADKA: Thank you!!   
  
Rabbit: Thank you!!  
  
Tina: Thank you!!  
  
RioRaptor: Thank you!! I like your suggestion for Minerva to make the   
first move. Maybe she'll have to. But she also seems like she'd be   
rather shy about romance herself.  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! (Mrs. Norris came today!! Thank you!! She's   
adorable! I may upload this chapter before I get to answer my e-mail.)  
  
The idea of Voldemort wondering if Dumbledore is getting suspicious   
about Snape's Death Eater activities is interesting.   
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! Harry got to explain many things about Sirius to   
Filch this time, though I didn't go into detail, because the readers   
already know.  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Hope the essays are going well!  
  
Sara Minks: Thank you!!  
  
Indarae: Thank you!!  
  
Saint Fool: Thank you!! Two weeks in the woods isn't too bad, as long as   
it doesn't rain more than half the time.  
  
Unrepentant Reader: Thank you!! 


	7. Epilogue: Another Little Miscalculation

To Save A Squib  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "The Way of the Squib"  
Epilogue: Another Little Miscalculation  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
"Madam Pomfrey, this is quite unnecessary. I am perfectly all ri..   
OW!"  
  
"Goodness, Severus! Look at you!!"  
  
The sound of voices shattered the silence of the hospital wing,   
waking me up.   
  
It seemed that Professor Snape was arguing with Madam Pomfrey. And   
he appeared to be losing.  
  
The medi-witch and the Potions Master were concealed behind a   
curtain, surrounding one of the beds. But their voices were clearly   
audible.  
  
Also awakened by the noise, Sirius Black, in his dog form once   
more, blinked bleary eyed at me, from his bed across the room.  
  
"It's not as bad as it looks..." Severus was protesting.  
  
"I'll be the judge of that," Poppy retorted.  
  
This was followed by a yelp of pain from Professor Snape.   
  
"Honestly, you haven't changed since you were eleven!" Poppy said,   
in exasperation. "This wouldn't hurt at all if you would just stop   
squirming..."  
  
His hair looking even more untidy than usual, Harry Potter sat up   
in his bed. Fumbling with his glasses he looked first at his godfather,   
Sirius, then at me and lastly, over at the curtain.  
  
We all heard a sigh from Poppy.  
  
"Well, nothing appears to be broken," the nurse said. "But you're   
obviously very sore. You need something for the pain."  
  
"I have plenty of potions, in my own stores in the dungeons..."   
Snape hissed. "If you'd just let me go down to my own bed... ow! OW!!   
Stop that, woman!"  
  
"You're behaving like a child, Severus! You heard what Albus said.   
He wants me to look you over and do whatever I can for these terrible   
bruises. You are aware of the properties of arnica; you mixed this   
liniment for me yourself! It will help. Hold still!"  
  
*******  
  
When Poppy emerged from behind the curtain, she was red in the   
face and muttering angrily to herself. When she caught sight of Potter,   
Black and me, she glared at us.  
  
"I've given him a sleeping draught. Do not disturb him!"  
  
The nurse directed an especially stern glare at the large black   
dog, her arms folded forbiddingly across her chest. Sirius returned the   
look, his expression soulful and innocent.  
  
Poppy was not fooled. "You should also be resting," she scolded   
the badly wounded Animagus. "Perhaps you would like a sleeping draught   
as well? I have plenty..."  
  
I could not help grinning. Poppy knew that the only way to keep   
Severus Snape and Sirius Black in the same hospital ward safely for any   
length of time was to have one or both of them drugged.  
  
Poppy glowered at Black sternly for another moment. Then, she   
turned to Harry, her voice and manner growing more gentle.  
  
"You should still have time to get changed and washed up before   
breakfast, young man. And then, off to your classes. Don't worry, you   
may see your godfather later. If he continues to behave himself, then he   
may have visitors. If not..." her voice trailed off, leaving the implied   
threat.  
  
The huge dog whimpered and put his head down on his bandaged paws.   
Not being allowed to see Harry was a punishment far worse than a   
sleeping draught.  
  
From behind the curtain Snape spoke, sounding both drowsy and   
horrified. "Potter is awake out there?"   
  
"Yes, but he's just leaving, Professor..." I called.  
  
The boy grinned at the closed curtain, but wisely, he kept silent.   
Waving first at Sirius and then at me, he adjusted his glasses and left   
the hospital wing.  
  
Madam Pomfrey watched us for a few more moments. Black continued   
to look innocent. With my good arm I reached out towards the chair   
beside my bed to stroke Mrs. Norris. My cat purred at me, sleepily.  
  
"I'll be within earshot..." Poppy warned Snape and Black, as she   
headed for her office.  
  
As soon as she was gone Black shifted back to his human form.  
  
"Snape! Are you still awake? How did the Headmaster see through   
your glamour? What went wrong? How did he know that you were hurt?" The   
Animagus asked, curiously.  
  
I would have scolded him for bothering the Professor. But I wanted   
to know the answer too. Dumbledore had told me that he could not sense   
magic.  
  
"The Headmaster didn't know. He wouldn't have known. It was Fawkes   
who gave me away..." Snape grumbled, yawning. The sleeping draught was   
clearly taking effect. His voice grew soft and faint.   
  
"I hadn't considered the Phoenix! He kept singing at me ...wanted   
to weep on me... just ignored me when I shook my head at him and told   
him to let me be. Blasted bird..."   
  
Severus's voice trailed off completely. He had gone to sleep in   
mid-sentence.  
  
"Rest well, Professor," I murmured, unable to suppress a grin.  
  
  
  
THE END  
  
*******  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
This was a little scene-snippet that didn't really seem to fit into the   
next story, so I decided to use it as an epilogue for this story.  
  
Faith Accompli: Thank you!!  
  
Miche: Thank you!! I have another story in mind, but I haven't started   
on it just yet.  
  
Melodie: Thank you!! I would like to make Sirius and Severus friends,   
but I don't think that they would cooperate too easily.  
  
C: Thank you!!  
  
RioRaptor: Thank you!! Yes, poor Voldie; first he got his butt kicked by   
a baby then by a Squib!  
  
ThePet: Thank you!!  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!! Poppy can deal with Severus and Sirius together   
for a short time, as long as one of them is asleep. (When Snape wakes up   
he'll be allowed to go down and rest in his own bed. Poppy isn't   
foolish.)  
  
My husband has dyslexia too. We met in high school, and people used to   
ask us why we were friends since I was a bookworm and he hated to read   
and had a really terrible time with spelling. In spite of the fact that   
my husband is very clever and good at building and fixing things many   
people did treat him like he was a lesser person. This used to infuriate   
me, but he would shrug it off. Things are better for him now,   
thankfully. My son does sometimes get treated like a second-class   
citizen by people who think it's amusing to pick on him because he has a   
hard time with spelling. Like his dad, he shrugs it off, but I can tell   
it hurts.  
  
Both sons and my husband say "Hi!"  
  
Surlyse: Thank you!! Your nice comments made my day too!  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! More stories coming eventually. I need to   
take a few days off to go shopping for clothes with the boys, who seem   
to have outgrown everything they own. Again.  
  
Demeter: Thank you!! Of course Lucius has a plan. He always has multiple   
plans. Draco's reactions to Lucius's punishment will be in the next   
story.  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! It's fun to see the other characters through   
Filch's eyes, especially Harry. Yes, Filch did miscount Harry's   
Voldemort-encounters. Filch doesn't know about Quirrel and the Unicorn   
blood, but he should have counted Tom Riddle and the Diary, which he   
didn't.  
  
Yes, the plot-bunnies are continuing to eat my brain...  
  
Ezra Pippen: Thank you!! (I will hopefully have some more Sirius and   
Severus interaction in the next story, and hopefully Filch will get to   
talk to Sirius a bit, too. Sometimes I'm not sure what the characters   
will actually do until they do it.)  
  
Which stories had the two good Snape-boggarts? I'd like to read them!  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! Lucius had reasons for what he did. He would   
vehemently deny that Nobility was among those reasons. Yes, Lucius is   
too valuable a tool for Voldemort to want to break.  
  
Poppy can handle Sirius and Severus in the hospital wing together for   
short periods, as long as one of them is asleep and the other one is   
afraid that he will be denied visits with his godson if he doesn't   
behave.  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! Your latest chapter really took my breath away!   
Yes, there's a sequel coming... Mrs. Norris still hasn't had her kittens   
yet.  
  
Filch is in danger of becoming in awe of Harry, after his own encounter   
with the Dark Lord. This will irritate Snape.  
  
Rabbit: Thank you!! You're right; Snape could not hide his injuries from   
Dumbledore, thanks to Fawkes.  
  
Larania: Thank you!! You've hit the nail on the head, concerning Filch's   
relations with both Draco and Lucius. My ideas about this are still   
taking shape. (Filch will not be interacting with Lucius in the next   
story, since Lucius will still be recovering from his punishment.)  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Sorry to hear about the computer crash!   
Severus considered owing Lucius a Wizard's Debt to be another   
"Calculated Risk."   
  
Millefiori: Thank you!! 


End file.
